•I ;;;>' 


I 

ISI 


UC-NRLF 


WILEY  AND  PUTNAM'S 

LIBRARY  OF 

AMERICAN    BOOKS. 
WESTERN    CLEARINGS 


WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 


MRS.   C.  M.   KIRKLAND. 


AUTHOR   OP 
A  NEW  HOME,  WHO  XL  FOLLOW?"  "FOREST  LIF^"  &?, 


NEW  YORK: 
WILEY  AND  PUTNAM,  161  BROADWAY 

184G. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1845.  by 

W  I  L  E  Y    AND    P  U  T  N  A  M  , 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  o,  the  IMstrict  Court  of  th«  f.'nitei!  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


€?.  A.  AI.VORD,  PRINTKR,  T.  B.  HMITH.  HTERKOTKPKR, 

Cor.  John  ami  Dutch  8U.  218  William  Street. 


CONTENTS. 


PAG* 

THE  LAND-FEVER 1 

BALL  AT  THRAM'S  HUDDLE 15 

A  FOREST  FETE 27 

LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY 35 

HARVEST  MUSINGS 57 

THE  BEE-TREE 66 

IDLE  PEOPLE 87 

CHANCES  AND  CHANGES 94 

AMBUSCADES 118 

OLD  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NEW  YEAR 144 

THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  PROGRESS 153 

HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE 168 

AN  EMBROIDERED  FACT 194 

BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS           ...                 .  205 


ivi  70552 


PREFACE. 


To  write  a  book  is  no  great  matter — as  is  very  evident 
from  the  multitudes  of  books  which  are  written ;  to  write  a 
preface  is  quite  a  different  thing.  It  is  the  very  tyranny  of 
fashion  that  requires  something  to  be  said  when  there  is 
nothing  to  say.  But  if  one  tells  one's  publisher  so,  he  only 
says,  "  Nothing  can  come  of  nothing ;  try  again  !"  and  so  one 
is  thrust  bodily  before  the  public,  like  the  little  boy  who  clings 
to  his  mother's  apron,  and  tries  to  get  behind  her  chair,  while 
all  the  family  cry  out  at  once,  "  Johnny,  make  a  bow  !"  and 
when  Johnny  makes  his  bow  after  much  suffering,  the  com 
pany  do  not  even  look  at  him  !  In  this  last  particular  there 
is  a  decided  affinity  between  our  case  and  the  little  boy's,  for 
the  public  in  whose  behalf  prefaces  are  insisted  upon,  very 
seldom  takes  the  trouble  to  glance  at  them  after  they  are 
written. 

Some  cynical  people  may  ask  why  books  must  be  made  at 
all,  since  to  let  them  alone  is  the  most  easy  and  obvious  way 
of  avoiding  the  difficulties  which  beset  preface-writing.  It 
would  require  a  whole  new  book  fully  to  answer  such  an  un 
reasonable  question,  so  numerous  are  the  inevitable  causes  of 
book-making.  The  first  reason  that  might  be  given  is,  that 
when  one  is  born  to  write,  it  is  impossible  to  refrain  ;  and  if 
this  should  not  be  satisfactory,  more  than  the  orthodox  thirty- 
nine  might  be  added,  each  one  unanswerable — so  we  spare 


PREFACE. 


Goodman  Dull  the  specification.  For  ourselves  in  this  par 
ticular  case,  we  might  urge  that  these  arc  Western  stories — 
stories  illustrative  of  a  land  that  was  once  an  El  Dorado — 
stories  intended  to  give  more  minute  and  life-like  representa 
tions  of  a  peculiar  people,  than  can  well  be  given  in  a  grave, 
straightforward  history.  To  those  who  left  Eastern  and 
civilized  homes  to  try  the  new  Western  world,  at  a  period 
when  every  one  was  mad 

With  visions  prompted  by  intense  desire 

after  golden  harvests,  no  apology  for  an  attempt  to  convey  first 
impressions  of  so  new  a  state  of  things  will  he  needed.  A  trav 
eller  may  go  to  England  without  finding  much  that  he  feels 
prompted  to  record  for  the  amusement  of  friends  at  home.  Al 
most  every  body  has  been  there  before  him  ;  and  while  the  lan 
guage  and  manners  are  essentially  the  same  as  his  own,  the  pe 
culiarities  that  may  strike  him  have  been  already  reported  so 
often  and  so  well,  that  even  the  best  sketches  seem  almost  like 
mere  repetitions  or  rechaujfecs  of  the  observations  of  others. 
But  the  wild  West  has  had  few  visitors  and  fewer  describers. 
Its  history  may  be  homely,  but  it  is  original.  It  is  like  nothing 
else  in  the  wide  world,  and  so  various  that  successive  travel 
lers  may  continue  to  give  their  views  of  it  for  years  to  come, 
without  fear  of  exhausting  its  peculiarities.  Language,  ideas, 
manners,  customs— are  all  new  ;  yes  !  even  language  ;  for  lo 
the  instructed  person  from  one  of  our  great  Eastern  cities,  the 
talk  of  the  true  back-woodsman  is  scarce  intelligible.  His  inde 
scribable  twang  is,  to  be  sure,  no  further  from  good  English 
than  the  patois  of  many  of  the  English  counties.  But  at 
the  West  this  curious  talker  is  your  neighbour  and  equal, 
while  in  the  elder  country  he  would  never  come  in  your  way 
unless  you  sought  him  purposely  to  hear  his  jargon.  And  for 


PREFACE. 


ideas,  the  settler  has  some  of  the  strangest  that  ever  were  har 
boured  in  human  brain,  mixed  with  so  much  real  shrewdness, 
practical  wisdom,  and  ready  wit,  that  one  cannot  but  wonder 
how  nature  and  a  warping  cr  blinding  education  can  be  so  at 
variance. 

As  to  the  ordinary  manners  of  the  back- woodsman,  not  a 
word  can  be  said  in  their  favour.  They  are  barbarous 
enough.  Yet  he  is  a  gentle  creature  in  sickness  ;  and  when 
death  comes  to  the  family  of  a  friend  or  neighbour,  his  whole 
soul  is  melted,  and  his  manners  could  not  be  amended  by 
false  Chesterfield  himself.  A  delicacy  not  always  found 
among  the  elegant,  will  then  temper  his  every  look  and  move 
ment  to  the  very  tone  of  the  time.  And  for  substantial  kind 
ness  at  such  seasons — but  I  have  tried  to  say  what  I  thought 
of  that,  elsewhere. 

The  customs  of  the  West  are  such  as  might  naturally 
be  expected  to  grow  up  among  a  most  heterogeneous  pop 
ulation,  contriving  to  live  under  the  pressure  of  extreme 
difficulties,  and  living  not  in  the  present  but  in  the  fu 
ture.  This  is  the  condition  of  shifts  and  turns — "  expe 
dients  and  inventions  multiform  ;"  encroachments,  substitutes, 
borrowings  ;  public  spirit  and  individual  selfishness  ;  a  feeling 
of  common  interest,  conflicting  strangely  with  an  entire  read 
iness  to  flit  with  the  first  offer  of  "  a  trade  ;"  neighbourly 
kindness  struggling  against  the  necessity  of  looking  out  sharp 
ly  for  number  one.  That  this  combination, — or  rather  the 
combination  of  which  the  particulars  enumerated  are  but  a 
symbol, — should  afford  amusing  materials  for  one's  sketch 
book,  is  a  matter  of  course.  How  to  refrain,  in  cases  where 
to  tell  would  be  to  infringe  upon  neighbourly  comity,  is  the 
only  difficulty.  And  indeed,  to  tell  at  all,  in  however  general 
terms,  is  considered  as  doing  this ;  since  what  may  be  said  of 


viii  PREFACE. 

one  settlement  applies  to  so  nuiny  others,  that  all  one's  care 
does  not  suilice  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  particularity.  It  is 
a  well-known  fact  that  certain  sketches  of  Western  life  have 
been  appropriated  by  more  than  a  dozen  communities,  each 
declaring  them  personal;  while  their  sole  personality  lay  in 
the  attempt  to  adhere  closely  to  the  general,  to  the  entire 
exclusion  of  the  particular. 

The  papers  included  in  the  present  collection  were  all  writ 
ten  at  the  West,  and  I  may  say  with  Goldsmith,  "  they  cer 
tainly  were  new  when  they  were  written."  Further  claims 
to  originality  most  of  them  have  not.  Yet  there  is  reason  to 
believe,  after  all  the  efforts  made  to  instruct  and  delight  the 
people  of  the  v  I'nitrd  States  of  Alleghania  by  Magazine  and 
Annual  stories,  very  many  of  them  still  remain  beyond  the 
pale  ;  and  might  never  acquire  this  part  of  their  equipment 
for  the  journey  of  life,  if  it  were  not  for  occasional  reprints 
like  those  of  the  present  series. 

Besides  these  echoes  of  the  past,  we  entreat  the  reader  to 
believe  that  there  is  much  of  new,  and  (of  course)  good,  to  be 
found  in  the  following  pages.  We  entreat  him  to  believe 
this,  at  least ;  and  that  kindly  faith  will  help  to  give  a 
grace  to  what  might  else  have  but  slender  pretensions  to  his 
favour. 


WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 


THE    LAND-FEVEir. 

THE  wild  new  country,  with  all  its  coaiseness  and  all  its 
disadvantages  of  various  kinds,  has  yet  a  fascination  for  the 
settler,  in  consequence  of  a  certain  free,  hearty  tone,  which  has 
long  since  disappeared,  if  indeed  it  ever  existed,  in  parts  of  the 
country  where  civilization  has  made  greater  progress.  The 
really  fastidious,  and  those  who  only  pretend  to  he  such,  may  hold 
this  as  poor  compensation  for  the  many  things  lacking  of  another 
kind  ;  but  those  to  whose  apprehension  sympathy  and  sincerity 
have  a  pre-eminent  and  independent  charm,  prefer  the  kindly 
warmth  of  the  untaught,  to  the  icy  chill  of  the  half-taught;  and 
would  rather  he  welcomed  by  the  woodsman  to  his  log-cabin,  with 
its  rough  hearth,  than  make  one  of  a  crowd  who  feed  the  ostenta 
tion  of  a  millionaire,  or  gaze  with  sated  eyes  upon  costly  feasts 
which  it  would  be  a  mockery  to  dignify  with  the  name  of  hospi 
tality.  The  infrequency  of  inns  in  a  newly  settled  country  leads 
naturally  to  the  practice  of  keeping  "open  house"  for  strangers; 
and  it  is  rare  indeed  that  the  settler,  however  poor  his  accommo 
dations,  hesitates  to  offer  the  best  he  has  to  the  tired  wayfarer. 
Where  payment  is  accepted,  it  is  usually  very  inconsiderable  ; 
and  it  is  seldom  accepted  at  all,  unless  the  guest  is  manifestly 
better  off  than  his  entertainer.  But  whether  a  compensation  bo 
taken  or  refused,  the  heartiness  of  manner  with  which  every  thing 
that  the  house  affords  is  offered,  cannot  but  be  acceptable  to  the 
visitor.  Even  the  ever  rampant  pride,  which  comes  up  so  disa 
greeably  at  the  West,  where  the  outward  appearance  of  the 
stranger  betokens  any  advantage  of  condition,  slumbers  when 
that  stranger  claims  hospitality.  His  horse  is  cared  for  with 

2 


WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


more  solicitude  than  the  host  ever  bestows  on  his  own  ;  the  table 
is  covered  with  the  best  provisions  the  house  affords,  set  forth  in 
the  holiday  dishes;  the  b  d  is  endued  witli  the  brightest  patch 
work  quili — the  pride  of  the  housewife's  heart;  and  if  there  be 
any  fat  fowls — any  white  honey — any  good  tea — about  the  prem 
ises,  the  guest  will  be  sure  to  have  it,  even  though  it  may  have 
been  reserved  for  "  Independence"  or  "  Thanksgiving." 

This  habit  was  however  reversed,  or  at  least  suspended,  during 
the  speculath?';  times.  The  country  was  then  inundated  with 
people  who  came  to  buy  laud, — not  to  clear  and  plough,  but  as 
men  .buy  a^lotu ••.•y-tiek'-t  or  dig  for  gold — in  the  hope  of  unrea 
sonable  and  unearned  profits.  These  people  were  considered  as 
public  enemies.  No  personal  violence  was  offered  them,  as  might 
have  been  the  case  at  the  Southwest ;  but  every  obstacle,  in  the 
shape  of  extravagant  charges,  erroneous  information,  and  rude 
refusal,  was  thrown  in  their  way.  Few  were  discouraged  by 
this,  however ;  for  they  came  in  the  spirit  of  the  knights  of  ro 
mance  when  they  had  to  enter  enchanted  castles — strong  in  faith 
of  the  boundless  treasures  which  were  to  reward  their  perseve 
rance. 

To  mislead  an  unpractised  land-hunter  was  a  matter  of  no 
great  difficulty ;  for  few  things  are  more  intricate  and  puz 
zling,  at  first,  than  the  system  which  has  been  devised  to  fa 
cilitate  the  identifying  of  particular  spots.  Section-corners  and 
quarter-stakes,  eighties,  and  forties,  and  fractions,  are  plain 
enough  when  one  is  habituated  to  them,  and  they  seem  plain 
enough  to  the  new  man, — on  papi-r.  But  when  he  finds  himself 
in  the  woods,  with  his  maps  and  his  copious  memoranda,  he  is 
completely  at  sea,  with  no  guide  but  the  compass.  A  friend 
who  afterwards  became  quite  a  proficient  in  the  mysteries  of 
land-finding  tells  me  that  he  twice  lost  himself  completely  in  the 
woods.  "  The  first  time,"  he  says,  "  my  mishap  was  owing  to 
the  wandering  habits  of  a  wild  Indian  pony  which  I  had  chosen 
on  account  of  his  pmver  of  ceaseless  travel.  He  had  been  ac 
customed  to  pick  up  his  living  where  he  could  find  it,  and  he  took 
advantage  of  my  jogging  pace,  just  at  dusk,  when  I  did  not  feel 
too  certain  of  my  whereabout,  to  quit  the  scarce-defined  road,  in 
search  of  something  tempting  which  he  espied  at  a  distance.  My 


THE    LAXD-FEVER. 


resource  in  this  case  was  to  abandon  my  horse,  and  fix  my  eyes 
on  the  North  Star,  which  I  knew  would  bring  me  to  a  certain 
State  road,  in  due  time.  The  other  occasion  was  in  broad  day 
light,  but  when  there  was  only  an  occasional  gleam  of  sunshine, 
so  that  I  had  no  steady  guide  as  to  direction.  The  ground  was  so 
thickly  strown  with  leaves  that  my  horse's  hoofs  left  no  permanent 
track,  and  I  found  myself  in  a  complete  maze.  The  trees  were 
all  alike  to  my  bewildered  eyes  (I  had  left  my  compass  at  the  last 
lodging-place,) ;  and  all  I  knew  was  that  I  was  south  of  the  road 
which  I  had  quitted  for  the  sake  of  saving  some  miles'  distance- 
After  many  efforts  at  marking  trees — very  ineffectual  without  an 
axe — I  bethought  me  of  a  newspaper,  which  I  tore  into  pieces 
and  affixed  to  bushes  and  low  limbs  as  I  went,  and  so  obtained  a 
straight  line ;  by  which  means,  after  some  hours'  rather  anxious 
wandering,  I  was  finally  extricated." 

To  pass  a  night  in  the  woods  is  a  small  affair  for  a  hunting 
party  ;  but  it  is  something  quite  different  for  a  solitary  individual, 
unprovided  with  axe  or  gun,  and,  of  course,  unable  to  make  him 
self  comfortable  in  any  way.  To  sleep  in  a  tree  might  do,  if 
trees  were  not  occasionally  haunted  by  wild  cats ;  or  a  lair  in  the 
heaped  leaves  of  autumn,  if  there  were  not  a  chance  of  warming 
into  activity  a  nest  of  rattlesnakes.  These  are  no  doubt  partly 
useless  fears,  but  to  the  stranger  they  are  very  real ;  and  they 
tend  not  a  little  to  the  increase  of  his  difficulties  by  discomposing 
his  nerves  when  cool  reflection  would  be  his  best  friend. 

Mistakes  in  "locating"  land  were  often  very  serious,  even 
where  there  had  been  no  intention  to  deceive — the  purchaser  find 
ing  only  swamp  or  hopeless  gravel,  when  he  had  purchased  fine 
farming  land  and  maple  timber.  Every  mile  square  is  marked 
by  blazed  trees,  and  the  corners  especially  distinguished  by  stakes 
whose  place  is  pointed  out  by  trees  called  Witness-trees,  and  so 
accurate  and  so  minute  is  the  whole  system  that  it  seems  almost 
incredible  that  so  many  errors  should  have  arisen.  The  back 
woodsman  made  no  mistakes,  for  to  him  a  stump,  or  a  stone,  or 
a  prostrate  tree,  has  individuality ;  and  he  will  never  confound  it 
with  any  other.  One  accustomed  to  wandering  in  the  woods  will 
know  even  the  points  of  the  compass,  in  a  strange  place,  without 
sun  or  star  to  guide  him.  But  the  fact  of  the  unwillingness  of 


\v K.ST E ;: N  c L i : \iu N i ; s . 


the  actual  settler  to  guide  the  speculator  faithfully,  became  so 
well  known,  that  purchasers  oi'ien  preferred  relying  on  their  own 
sagacity,  backed  bv  what  seemed  unmistakable  rules,  to  trusting 
such  disaffected  guides.  Innumerable  stories  are  current  in  the 
woods  of  the  perplexities  of  city  gentlemen; — and  the  following, 
if  not  strictly  true,  will  serve  to  illustrate  somewhat  the  state 
of  things  in  those  wild  times  when  sober  prudence  was  forgotten, 
and  delusion  ruled  the  hour.  I  shall  call  it,  for  want  of  better 
title, 

A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  LAND-FEVER. 


THE  years  1833  and  183G  will  long  be  remembered  by  the 
Western  settler — and  perhaps  by  some  few  people  at  the  East, 
too — as  the  period  when  the  madness  of  speculation  in  lands  had 
reached  a  point  to  which  no  historian  of  the  time  will  ever  be 
able  to  do  justiee.  A  faithful  picture  of  those  wild  days  would 
subject  the  most  veracious  chronicler  to  the  charge  of  exaggera 
tion  ;  and  our  great-grand-children  can  hope  to  obtain  an  adequate 
idea  of  the  infatuation  which  led  away  their  forefathers,  only  by 
the  study  of  such  detached  facts  as  may  be  noted  down  by  those 
in  whose  minds  the  feeling  recollection  of  the  delusion  is  still 
fresh.  IVrhaps  when  our  literary  existence  shall  have  become 
sufficiently  confirmed  to  call  for  the  collection  of  Ana,  something 
more  may  be  gleaned  from  the  correspondence  in  which  were 
embodied  tin-  exultings  of  the  successful,  and  the  lamentations  of 
the  disappointed. 

"  Seeing  is  believing,"  certainly,  in  most  cases  ;  but  in  the  days 
of  the  land-f  ver.  we.  who  were  in  the  midst  of  the  infected  dis 
trict,  scarcely  found  it  so.  The  whirl,  the  fervour,  the  flutter,  the 
rapidity  of  st<  p,  the  sparkling  of  eyes,  the  beating  of  hearts,  the 
striking  of  hands,  the  utter  abandon  of  the  hour,  were  incredible, 
inconceivable.  The  "  man  of  one  idea"  was  every  where  :  no 
man  had  two.  He  who  had  no  money,  begged,  borrowed,  or  stole 
it;  he  who  had.  thought  he  made  a  generous  sacrifice,  if  he  lent 
it  at  cent  per  cent.  The  tradesman  forsook  his  shop;  the  farmer 
his  plough  ;  the  merchant  his  counter  ;  the  lawyer  his  office  ; 
nay,  the  minister  his  desk,  to  join  the  general  chase.  Eveu  the 


THE    LAND-FEVER. 


schoolmaster,  in  his  longing  to  be  "  abroad"  with  the  rest,  laid 
down  his  birch,  or  in  the  flurry  of  his  hopes,  plied  it  with  dimin 
ished  unction. 

"  Tramp  !  tramp  !  along  the  land  they  rode, 
Splash  !  splash  !  along  the  sea  !" 

The  man  with  one  leg,  or  he  that  had  none,  could  at  least  get  on 
board  a  steamer,  and  make  for  Chicago  or  Milwaukie  ;  the  strong, 
the  able,  but  above  all,  the  "  enterprising,"  set  out  with  his  pocket- 
map  and  his  pocket-compass,  to  thread  the  dim  woods,  and  see 
with  his  own  eyes.  Who  would  waste  time  in  planting,  in  build 
ing,  in  hammering  iron,  in  making  shoes,  when  the  path  to  wealth 
lay  wide  and  flowery  before  him  ? 

A  ditcher  was  hired  by  the  job  to  do  a  certain  piece  of  work  in 
his  line.  "  Well,  John,  did  you  make  any  thing  ?" 

"  Pretty  well ;  I  cleared  about  two  dollars  a  day  :  but  I  should 
have  made  more  by  standing  round  ;"*  i.  e.,  watching  the  land- 
market  for  bargains. 

This  favourite  occupation  of  all  classes  was  followed  by  its 
legitimate  consequences.  Farmers  were  as  fond  of  "  standing 
round"  as  any  body  ;  and  when  harvest  time  came,  it  was  dis 
covered  that  many  had  quite  forgotten  that  the  best  land  requires 
sowing  ;  and  grain,  and  of  course  other  articles  of  general  neces 
sity,  rose  to  an  unprecedented  price.  The  hordes  of  travellers 
flying  through  the  country  in  all  directions  were  often  cited  as  the 
cause  of  the  distressing  scarcity  ;  but  the  true  source  must  be 
sought  in  the  diversion,  or  rather  suspension,  of  the  industry  of 
the  entire  population.  Be  this  as  it  may,  of  the  wry  faces  made 
at  the  hard  fare,  the  travellers  contributed  no  inconsiderable 
portion ;  for  they  were  generally  city  gentlemen,  or  at  least  gen 
tlemen  who  had  lived  long  enough  in  the  city  to  have  learned  to 
prefer  oysters  to  salt  pork.  This  checked  not  their  ardour,  how- 
ever  ;  for  the  golden  glare  before  their  eyes  had  power  to  neutralize 
the  hue  of  all  present  objects.  On  they  pressed,  with  headlong 
zeal  :  the  silent  and  pathless  forest,  the  deep  miry  marsh,  the 
gloom  of  night,  and  the  fires  of  noon,  beheld  alike  the  march  of 

*  Verbatim. 


RRN  <  M:ARINGS. 


the  speculator.  Such  s.  arching  ()f  trees  for  town  lines  !  Such 
ransacking  of  th-  f,r  section  corners,  ranges,  and  base 

lines!  Such  anxious  can-  in  identifying  spots  }>O8sessing  par- 
ticular  advantages!  And  then,  ala,  !  after  all,  such  precious 
blunders  ? 

These  hlund.-rs  called  into  action  another  class  of  operators, 
who  became  popularly  known  as  "  land-lookers."  These  met 
you  at  every  turn,  ready  to  furnish  "  water-j,ower,"  <•  pine  lots," 
"  choice  farming  tract-,"  or  any  thing  else,  at  a  moment's  notice. 
Bar-rooms  and  strect-corners  swarmed  with  these  prowling  gentry. 
It  was  impossible  to  mention  any  part  of  the  country  which  they 
had  not  personally  surveyed.  They  would  tell  you,  with  the 
gravity  of  astrologers,  what  sort  of  timber  predominated  on  any 
given  tract,  drawing  sage  deductions  as  to  the  capabilities  of  the 
Did  yon  incline  to  city  property  ?  Lo  !  a  splendid  chart, 
setting  forth  the  advantages  of  some  unequalled  site,  and  your 
confidential  friend,  the  land-looker,  able  to  tell  you  more  than  all 
about  it,  or  to  accompany  \ou  to  the  happy  spot  ;  though  that  he 
would  not  advise;  "bad  roads,"  "  nothing  fit  to  eat,"  etc.  j  and 
all  this  from  a  purely  disinterested  solicitude,  for  your  welfare. 

These  amiable  individuals  wen-,  strange  to  tell,  no  favourites 
with  the  actual  settlers.  If  they  disliked  the  gentleman  specula. 
tor,  they  hated  with  a  perfect  hatred  him  who  aided  by  his  local 
knowledge  the  immense  purchases  of  non-residents.  These 
short-sighted  and  prejudiced  persons  forgot  the  honour  and  d is- 
linction  which  mu>t  result  from  their  insignificant  farms  being 
surrounded  by  the  possessions  of  the  magnates  of  the  land. 
They  saw  only  the  sohmde  which  would  probably  be  entailed  on 
t»cm  (;"'  nd  it  was  counted  actual  treason  in  a  settler  to 

give  any  facilities  to  the  land-looker,  «,f  whatever  grade.  "Let 
the  land-shark  do  his  own  hunting,"  was  their  frequent  reply  to 
applications  of  this  kind  ;  and  some  thought  them  quite  right. 
Yet  this  state  of  feeling  among  the  I  lard-banded,  was  not  without 
its  inconvenient  results  to  city  gentlemen,  as  witDOM  the  case  of 
our  friend  Mr.  Willoughby,  a  very  prim  and  smart  bachelor, 

from 

It  was  when  the  whirlwind  was  at  its  height,  that  a  gentleman 
wearing  the  air  of  a  bank-director,  at  the  very  least—in  other 


THi:   LAND-FKVEil. 


words,  that  of  an  uncommonly  fat  pigeon — drew  bridle  at  the 
bars  in  front  of  one  of  the  roughest  log  houses  in  the  county  of 

.     The   horse  and  his  rider  were  loaded  with  all  those 

unnecessary  defences,  and  cumbrous  comforts,  which  the  fashion 
of  the  time  prescribed  in  such  cases.  Blankets,  valise,  saddle 
bags,  and  holsters  nearly  covered  the  steed  ;  a  most  voluminous 
enwrapment  of  India-rubber  cloth  completely  enveloped  the  rider. 
The  gallant  sorrel  seemed  indeed  fit  for  his  burden.  He  looked 
as  if  he  might  have  swam  any  stream  in  Michigan 

"  Barded  from  counter  to  tail, 
And  the  rider  arm'd  complete  in  mail ;" 

yet  he  seemed  a  little  jaded,  and  hung  his  head  languidly,  while 
his  master  accosted  the  tall  and  meagre  tenant  of  the  log  cabin. 

This  individual  and  his  dwelling  resembled  each  other  in  an 
unusual  degree.  The  house  was,  as  we  have  said,  of  the  rough 
est  ;  its  ribs  scarcely  half  filled  in  with  clay  ;  its  "  looped  and 
windowed  raggedness"  rendered  more  conspicuous  by  the  tattered 
cotton  sheets  which  had  long  done  duty  as  glass,  and  which  now 
fluttered  in  every  breeze  ;  its  roof  of  oak  shingles,  warped  into 
every  possible  curve ;  and  its  stick  chimney,  so  like  its  owner's 
hat,  open  at  the  top,  and  jammed  in  at  the  sides  ;  all  shadowed 
forth  the  contour  and  equipments  of  the  exceedingly  easy  and 
solf-satisfied  person  who  leaned  on  the  fence,  and  snapped  his  long 
cart-whip,  while  he  gave  such  answers  as  suited  him  to  the  gen 
tleman  in  the  India-rubbers,  taking  especial  care  not  to  invite  him 
to  alight. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  my  friend, "  civilly  began  Mr.  Wil- 

loughby. 

"  Oh  !  friend  /"  interrupted  the  settler  ;  "  who  told  you  I  was 
your  friend  ?  Friends  is  scuss  in  these  parts." 

"  You  have  at  least  no  reason  to  be  otherwise,"  replied  the 
traveller,  who  was  blessed  with  a  very  patient  temper,  especially 
where  there  was  no  use  in  getting  angry. 

"  I  don't  know  that,"  was  the  reply.  "  What  fetch'd  you  into 
these  woods  ?" 

"  If  I  should  say  *  my  horse,'  the  answer  would  perhaps  be  as 
civil  as  the  question." 


WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 


"  Jist  as  you  like,"  said  the  other,  turning  on  his  heel,  and 
walking  off. 

"  I  wished  merely  to  ask  you,"  resumed  Mr.  Willoughby, 
talking  after  the  nonchalant  son  of  the  forest,  "  whether  this  is 
Mr.  Pepper's  land." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  an't  mine  ?" 

"  I'm  not  likely  to  know,  at  present,  it  seems,"  said  the  travel 
ler,  whose  patience  was  getting  a  little  frayed.  And  taking  out 
his  memorandum-book,  he  ran  over  his  minutes  :  "South  half  of 

north-west  quarter  of  section  fourteen Your  name  is  Leander 

Pepper,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Where  did  you  get  so  much  news  ?  You  a'n't  the  sheriff, 
be  ye  ?" 

"  Pop !"  screamed  a  white-headed  urchin  from  the  house, 
"  Mam  says  supper's  ready." 

"  So  ain't  I,"  replied  the  papa  ;  "  I've  got  all  my  chores  to  do 
yet."  And  he  busied  himself  at  a  log  pig-stye  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  road,  half  as  large  as  the  dweiling-house.  Here  he 
was  soon  surrounded  by  a  squealing  multitude,  with  whom  he 
seemed  to  hold  a  regular  conversation. 

Mr.  Willoughby  looked  at  the  westering  sun,  which  was  not 
far  above  the  dense  wall  of  trees  that  shut  in  the  small  clear 
ing  ;  then  at  the  heavy  clouds  which  advanced  from  the  north, 
threatening  a  stormy  night ;  then  at  his  watch,  and  then  at  his 
note-book  ;  and  after  all,  at  his  predicament — on  the  whole,  an 
unpleasant  prospect.  But  at  this  moment  a  female  face  showed 
itself  at  the  door.  Our  traveller's  memory  reverted  at  once  to 
the  testimony  of  Ledyard  and  Mungo  Park  ;  and  he  had  also 
some  floating  and  indistinct  poetical  recollections  of  woman's 
being  useful  when  a  man  was  in  difficulties,  though  hard  to 
please  at  other  times.  The  result  of  these  reminiscences,  which 
occupied  a  precious  second,  was,  that  Mr.  Willoughby  dismount 
ed,  fastened  his  horse  to  the  fence,  and  advanced  with  a  brave 
and  determined  air,  to  throw  himself  upon  female  kindness  and 
sympathy. 

Hi-  naturally  looked  at  the  lady,  as  he  approached  the  door, 
but  she  did  not  return  the  compliment.  She  looked  at  the  pigs, 
and  talked  to  the  children,  and  Mr.  Willoughby  had  time  to  ob- 


THE    LAND-FEVER. 


serve  that  she  was  the  very  duplicate  of  her  husband  \  as  tall,  as 
bony,  as  ragged,  and  twice  as  cross-looking. 

"  Malviny  Jane  !"  she  exclaimed,  in  no  dulcet  treble,  "  be 
done  a-paddlin'  in  that  'ere  water  !  If  I  come  there,  I'll " 

"  You'd  better  look  at  Sophrony,  I  guess !"  was  the  reply. 

"  Why,  what's  she  a-doin'  ?" 

"  Well,  I  guess  if  you  look,  you'll  see  !"  responded  Miss  Mal- 
vina,  coolly,  as  she  passed  into  the  house,  leaving  at  every  step 
a  full  impression  of  her  foot  in  the  same  black  mud  that  covered 
her  sister  from  head  to  foot. 

The  latter  was  saluted  with  a  hearty  cuff,  as  she  emerged  from 
the  puddle  ;  and  it  was  just  at  the  propitious  moment  when  her 
shrill  howl  aroused  the  echoes,  that  Mr.  Willoughby,  having 
reached  the  threshold,  was  obliged  to  set  about  making  the  agree 
able  to  the  mamma.  And  he  called  up  for  the  occasion  all  his 
politeness. 

"  I  believe  I  must  become  an  intruder  on  your  hospitality  for 
the  night,  madam,"  he  began.  The  dame  still  looked  at  the 
pigs.  Mr.  Willoughby  tried  again,  in  less  courtly  phrase. 

"  Will  it  be  convenient  for  you  to  lodge  me  to-night,  ma'am  ? 
I  have  been  disappointed  in  my  search  for  a  hunting-party,  whom 
I  had  engaged  to  meet,  and  the  night  threatens  a  storm." 

"  I  don't  know  nothin'  about  it ;  you  must  ask  the  old  man," 
said  the  lady,  now  for  the  first  time  taking  a  survey  of  the  new 
comer ;  "  with  my  will,  we'll  lodge  nobody." 

This  was  not  very  encouraging,  but  it  was  a  poor  night  for  the 
woods ;  so  our  traveller  persevered,  and  making  so  bold  a  push 
for  the  door  that  the  lady  was  obliged  to  retreat  a  little,  he  en 
tered,  and  said  he  would  await  her  husband's  coming. 

And  in  truth  he  could  scarcely  blame  the  cool  reception  he  had 
experienced,  when  he  beheld  the  state  of  affairs  within  those  mud 
dy  precincts.  The  room  was  large,  but  it  swarmed  with  human 
beings.  The  huge  open  fire-place,  with  its  hearth  of  rough  stone, 
occupied  nearly  the  whole  of  one  end  of  the  apartment ;  and  near 
it  stood  a  long  cradle,  containing  a  pair  of  twins,  who  cried — a 
sort  of  hopeless  cry,  as  if  they  knew  it  would  do  no  good,  yet 
could  not  help  it.  The  schoolmaster,  (it  was  his  week,)  sat  read 
ing  a  tattered  novel,  and  rocking  the  cradle  occasionally,  when 


10  WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 

the  children  cried  too  loud.  An  old  grey-headed  Indian  was  cu 
riously  crouched  over  a  large  tub,  shelling  corn  on  the  edge  of  a 
hoe  ;  but  he  ceased  his  noisy  employment  when  he  saw  the  stran 
ger,  for  no  Indian  will  ever  willingly  be  seen  at  work,  though 
In1  may  be  sometimes  compelled  by  the  fear  of  starvation  or  the 
longing  for  whiskey,  to  degrade  himself  by  labour.  Near  the 
only  window  was  placed  the  work-bench  and  entire  paraphernalia 
of  the  shoemaker,  who  in  these  regions  travels  from  house  to 
house,  shoeing  the  family  and  mending  the  harness  as  he  goes, 
with  various  interludes  of  songs  and  jokes,  ever  new  and  accept 
able.  This  one,  who  was  a  little,  bald,  twinkling-eyed  fellow, 
made  the  smoky  rafters  ring  with  the  burden  of  that  favourite 
ditty  of  the  west : 

"  All  kinds  of  panic  to  hunt,  my  boys,  also  the  buck  and  doe, 
All  down  by  tbc  bunks  of  the  river  O-hi-o  ;" 

and  children  of  all  sizes,  clattering  in  all  keys,  completed  the 
picture  and  the  concert. 

The  supper-table,  which  maintained  its  place  in  the  midst  of 
this  living  and  restless  mass,  might  remind  one  of  the  square 
stone  lying  bedded  in  the  bustling  leaves  of  the  acanthus  ;  but 
the  associations  would  be  any  but  those  of  Corinthian  elegance. 
The  only  object  which  at  that  moment  diversified  its  dingy  sur 
face  was  an  iron  hoop,  into  which  the  mistress  of  the  feast  pro 
ceeded  to  turn  a  quantity  of  smoking  hot  potatoes,  adding  after 
ward  a  bowl  of  salt,  and  another  of  pork  fat,  by  courtesy  denom 
inated  gravy  :  plates  and  knives  dropped  in  afterward,  at  the  dis 
cretion  of  the  company. 

Another  call  of  "  Pop  !  pop  !"  brought  in  the  host  from  the  pig- 
stye  :  the  heavy  rain  which  had  now  began  to  fall,  having  no 
doubt,  expedited  the  performance  of  the  chores.  Mr.  Willoughby, 
who  had  established  himself  resolutely,  took  advantage  of  a  very 
cloudy  assent  from  the  proprietor,  to  lead  his  horse  to  a  shed,  and 
to  deposit  in  a  corner  his  cumbrous  outer  gear ;  while  the  com 
pany  used  in  turn  the  iron  skillet  which  served  as  a  wash-basin, 
dipping  the  water  from  a  large  trough  outside,  overflowing  with 
the  abundant  drippings  of  the  eaves.  Those  who  had  no  pocket- 
handkerchiefs,  contented  themselves  with  a  nondescript  article 


THE   LAND-FEVER.  11 


which  seemed  to  stand  for  the  family  towel ;  and  when  this  cere 
mony  was  concluded;  all  seriously  addressed  themselves  to  the  de 
molition  of  the  potatoes.  The  grown  people  were  accommodated 
with  chairs  and  chests;  the  children  prosecuted  a  series  of  flying 
raids  upon  the  good  cheer,  snatching  a  potato  now  and  then  as 
they  could  find  an  opening  under  the  raised  arm  of  one  of  the 
family,  and  then  retreating  to  the  chimney  corner,  tossing  the  hot 
prize  from  hand  to  hand,  and  blowing  it  stoutly  the  while.  The 
old  Indian  had  disappeared. 

To  our  citizen,  though  he  felt  inconveniently  hungry,  this 
primitive  meal  seemed  a  little  meagre  ;  and  he  ventured  to  ask  if 
he  could  not  be  accommodated  with  some  tea. 

"  An't  my  victuals  good  enough  for  you  ?" 

"  Oh  ! — the  potatoes  are  excellent,  but  I'm  very  fond  of  tea." 

"  So  be  I,  but  I  can't  have  every  thing  I  want — can  you  ?" 

This  produced  a  laugh  from  the  shoemaker,  who  seemed  to 
think  his  patron  very  witty,  while  the  schoolmaster,  not  knowing 
but  the  stranger  might  happen  to  be  one  of  his  examiners  next 
year,  produced  only  a  faint  giggle,  and  then  reducing  his  coun 
tenance  instantly  to  an  awful  gravity,  helped  himself  to  his  sev 
enth  potato. 

The  rain  which  now  poured  violently,  not  only  outside  but 
through  many  a  crevice  in  the  roof,  naturally  kept  Mr.  Willough- 
by  cool ;  and  finding  that  dry  potatoes  gave  him  the  hiccups,  he 
withdrew  from  the  table,  and  seating  himself  on  the  shoemaker's 
bench,  took  a  survey  of  his  quarters. 

Two  double-beds  and  the  long  cradle,  seemed  all  the  sleeping 
apparatus ;  but  there  was  a  ladder  which  doubtless  led  to  a  lodg 
ing  above.  The  sides  of  the  room  were  hung  with  abundance 
of  decent  clothing,  and  the  dresser  was  well  stored  with  the  usual 
articles,  among  which  a  tea-pot  and  canister  shone  conspicuous ; 
so  that  the  appearance  of  inhospitality  could  not  arise  from  pov 
erty,  and  Mr.  Willoughby  concluded  to  set  it  down  to  the  account 
of  rustic  ignorance. 

The  eating  ceased  not  until  the  hoop  was  empty,  and  then  the 
company  rose  and  stretched  themselves,  and  began  to  guess  it 
was  about  time  to  go  to  bed.  Mr.  Willoughby  inquired  what 
was  to  he  done  with  his  horse. 


12  WKSTF.RN    CLKAllINCS. 

"Well!  I  s'posc  he  can  stay  where  lie  is." 

"  But  what  can  he  have  to  eat  ?" 

"  I  reckon  you  won't  get  nothing  for  him,  without  you  turn 
him  out  on  the  mash." 

"  He  would  get  off,  to  a  certainty  !'' 

"  Tie  his  legs." 

The  unfortunate  traveller  argued  in  vain.  Hay  was  "  scuss," 
and  potatoes  were  "  scusser  ;"  and  in  short  the  •'  mash"  was  the 
only  resource,  and  these  natural  meadows  afford  hut  poor  picking 
after  the  first  of  October.  But  to  the  "  mash"  was  the  good  steed 
despatched,  ingloriously  hampered,  with  the  privilege  of  munch 
ing  wild  grass  in  the  rain,  after  his  day's  journey. 

Then  came  the  question  of  lodging  for  his  master.  The  lady, 
who  had  by  this  time  drawn  out  a  trundle-bed,  and  packed  it  full 
of  children,  said  there  was  no  bed  for  him,  unless  lie  could  sleep 
"  up  chamber"  with  the  boys. 

Mr.  Willoughby  declared  that  he  should  make  out  very  well 
with  a  blanket  by  the  fire. 

"  Well  !  just  as  you  like,"  said  his  host ;  "  but  Solomon  sleeps 
there,  and  if  you  like  to  sleep  by  Solomon,  it  is  more  than  / 
should." 

This  was  the  name  of  the  old  Indian,  and  Mr.  Willoughby 
once  more  cast  woful  glances  toward  the  ladder. 

But  now  the  schoolmaster,  who  seemed  rather  disposed  to  be 
civil,  declared  that  he  could  sleep  very  well  in  the  long  cradle, 
and  would  relinquish  his  place  beside  the  shoemaker  to  the  guest, 
who  was  obliged  to  content  himself  with  this  arrangement,  which 
was  such  as  was  most  usual  in  those  times. 

The  storm  continued  through  the  night,  and  many  a  crash  in 
the  woods  attested  its  power.  The  sound  of  a  storm  in  the  dense 
forest  is  almost  precisely  similar  to  that  of  a  heavy  surge  break 
ing  on  a  rocky  beach  ;  and  when  our  traveller  slept,  it  was  only 
to  dream  of  wreck  and  disaster  at  sea,  and  to  wake  in  horror  and 
affright.  The  wild  rain  drove  in  at  every  crevice,  and  wet  the 
poor  children  in  the  loft  so  thoroughly,  that  they  crawled  shiver 
ing  down  the  ladder,  and  stretched  themselves  on  the  hearth,  re 
gardless  of  Solomon,  who  had  returned  after  the  others  were  in 
bed. 


THE   LAND-FEVER.  13 


But  morning  came  at  last;  and  our  friend,  who  had  no  desire 
farther  to  test  the  vaunted  hospitality  of  a  western  settler,  was  not 
among  the  latest  astir.  The  storm  had  partially  suhsided  ;  and 
although  the  clouds  still  lowered  angrily,  and  his  saddle  had  en 
joyed  the  benefit  of  a  leak  in  the  roof  during  the  night,  Mr.  Wil- 
loughby  resolved  to  push  on  as  far  as  the  next  clearing,  at  least, 
hoping  for  something  for  breakfast  besides  potatoes  and  salt.  It 
took  him  a  weary  while  to  find  his  horse,  and  when  he  had  saddled 
him,  and  strapped  on  his  various  accoutrements,  he  entered  the 
house,  and  inquired  what  he  was  to  pay  for  his  entertainment — 
laying  somewhat  of  a  stress  on  the  last  word. 

His  host,  nothing  daunted,  replied  that  he  guessed  he  would  let 
him  oiF  for  a  dollar. 

Mr.  Willoughby  took  out  his  purse,  and  as  he  placed  a  silver 
dollar  in  the  leathern  palm  outspread  to  receive  it,  happening  to 
look  toward  the  hearth,  and  perceiving  the  preparations  for  a  very 
substantial  breakfast,  the  long  pent-up  vexation  burst  forth. 

"  I  really  must  say,  Mr.  Pepper "  he  began:  his  tone  was 

certainly  that  of  an  angry  man,  but  it  only  made  his  host  laugh. 

"If  this  is  your  boasted  western  hospitality,  I  can  tell  you " 

"  You'd  better  tell  me  what  the  dickens  you  are  peppering  rne 
up  this  fashion  for  !  My  name  isn't  Pepper,  no  more  than  yours 
is  !  May  be  that  is  your  name;  you  seem  pretty  warm." 

"  Your  name  not  Pepper !     Pray  what  is  it,  then  ?" 

"  Ah  !  there's  the  thing  now  !  You  land-hunters  ought  to  know 
sich  things  without  asking." 

"  Land-hunter !     I'm  no  land-hunter  !" 

"  Well !  you're  a  land-shark,  then — swallowin'  up  poor  men's 
farms.  The  less  I  see  of  such  cattle,  the  better  I'm  pleased." 

"  Confound  you  !"  said  Mr.  Willoughby,  who  waxed  warm,  "  I 
tell  you  I've  nothing  to  do  with  land.  I  wouldn't  take  your  whole 
state  for  a  gift." 

"  What  did  you  tell  my  woman  you  was  a  land-hunter  for, 
then  ?" 

And  now  the  whole  matter  became  clear  in  a  moment ;  and  it 
was  found  that  Mr.  Willoughby's  equipment,  with  the  mention  of 
a  "  hunting  party,"  had  completely  misled  both  host  and  hostess. 


14  \VI:STI:UN 


Anil  to  do  tin-in  justice,  never  were,  ivgret  and  vi-XiU.r1'  more 
lieartily  expressed. 

"You  needn't  judge  our  new-country  folks  by  me,"  said  Mr. 
Handy,  lor  such  proved  to  be  his  name;  "  any  man  in  these  parts 
would  as  soon  bite  olF  his  own  nose,  as  to  snub  a  civil  traveller 
that  wanted  a  supper  and  a  night's  lodging.  But  somehow  or  other, 
your  lots  o'  fixin',  and  your  askin'  after  that  'ere  Pepper — one  of 
the  worst  land-sharks  we've  ever  had  here — made  me  mad;  and 
1  know  1  treated  you  worse  than  an  Indian." 

"  Humph  !"  said  Solomon. 

"  But,"  continued  the  host,  "  you  shall  see  whether  my  old  wo 
man  can't  set  a  good  breakfast,  when  she's  a  mind  to.  Come, 
you  shan't  stir  a  step  till  you've  had  breakfast;  and  just  take 
back  this  plaguey  dollar.  1  wonder  it  didn't  burn  my  fingers 
when  1  took  it!" 

Mrs.  Handy  set  forth  her  very  best,  and  a  famous  breakfast  it 
was.  considering  the  times.  And  before  it  was  finished,  the  hunt 
ing  party  made  their  appearance,  having  had  some  difficulty  in 
finding  their  companion,  who  had  made  no  very  uncommon  mis 
take  as  to  section  corners  and  town-lines. 

"  I'll  tell  ye  what,"  said  Mr.  I  landy,  confidentially,  as  the  caval 
cade  with  its  baggage-ponies,  loaded  with  tents,  gun-cases,  and 
hampers  of  provisions,  was  getting  into  order  for  a  march  to  the 
prairies,  "  I'll  tell  ye  what ;  if  you've  occasion  to  stop  any  where 
in  the  Bush,  you'd  better  tell  'em  at  the  first  goin'  off  that  you 
a'n't  land-hunters." 

But  Mr.  Willoughby  had  already  had  "  a  caution." 


BALL  AT  THRAM'S  HUDDLE.  15 


BALL  AT  THRAM'S  HUDDLE. 


THE  winter  being  a  time  of  comparative  leisi  3  for  the  farmer 
and  his  family,  is  generally  the  chosen  period  or  regular,  pre 
meditated  amusements,  such  as  dancing,  seeing  'shows,"  and  go- 
ing  to  school  ; — this  last  being  considered  only  ;it  to  fill  up  spare 
time  of  such  young  people  as  are  old  enough  to  do  any  thing 
"  useful."  A  ball  on  Christmas  or  New- Year  night,  or  in  com 
memoration  of  Jackson's  victory,  or  Washington's  birth,  is  always 
in  order  ;  as  those  eras  happen  all  to  occur  in  the  depth  of  winter. 
And  the  raree-shows  which  traverse  the  remoter  parts  of  the 
country,  almost  invariably  offer  their  attractions  about  the  same 
period,  their  owners  knowing  very  well  that  the  farmer  never  feels 
so  generous  or  so  jovial  as  when  his  crops  are  all  safely  housed, 
and  his  wheat  in  the  ground  for  next  year's  harvest. 

These  exhibitions  are  a  rich  treat,  sometimes  ;  not  only  to  those 
who  gaze  upon  them  in  good  faith,  but  to  the  cooler  spectator,  em 
ployed  rather  in  watching  the  company  than  the  performers.  I 
remember  one,  the  materielof  which  was  a  Lecture  on  Astronomy, 
with  Orrery  and  Tellurium,  (grand-sounding  amusements  for  the 
woods  !)  a  model  of  Perkins'  steam  gun,  and  a  Magic  Lantern. 
The  master  of  ceremonies  (feeling  very  little  ceremony  himself,) 
went  about  quite  coolly,  with  his  hat  on  and  a  segar  in  his  mouth, 
marshal!  ing  the  company,  and  ordering  the  boys  to  make  themselves 
as  small  as  they  could,  in  order  that  he  might  the  more  easily 
get  round  to  take  up  a  contribution  before  the  "  exercises"  began. 
The  fee,  being  left  to  the  generosity  of  the  spectators,  was  not 
very  burthensome  in  collecting;  and  the  orator  declared  before 
he  tegan  the  lecture,  that  he  had  not  received  enough  to  pay  for 
the  candles — of  which,  by  the  bye,  there  were  only  four,  for  au 
audience  of  nearly  an  hundred  people.  This  moved  a  good  wo 
man  on  one  of  the  back  seats  so  deeply,  that  she  asked  him  to 


16  WR.STKKX   CLEARING  IS. 

wait  a  minute,  and  then  passed  a  sixpence,  along  a  lino  of  ready 
hands,  to  tlie  rostrum,  where  the  pathetic  speaker,  after  first  ex 
amining  it  on  both  sides  by  the  nearest  candle,  put  it  in  his  pock- 
et,  and  then,  with  a  more  contented  air,  ordered  the  music  to  he. 
gin.  The  violin  accordingly  struck  up  a  lively  tune,  to  which  all 
the  male  part  of  the  audience  kept  time  with  their  feet  ;  and  the 
lecture,  thus  gilded  over  like  a  bitter  pill,  began.  But  such  a 
lecture  !  It  was  read  off  by  rote,  the  reader  evidently  knowing 
no  more  of  his  subject  than  of  Hebrew,  and  having  merely  gar 
bled  from  some  dull  treatise,  an  incomprehensible  jumble  of  facts 
and  theories  that  would  have  puzzled  Sir  John  Herschcl  in  the 
disentangling.  The  effect  of  such  "  amusement"  on  such  an  au 
dience  may  easily  be  imagined.  Some  yawned,  some  nodded,  and 
some  went  fairly  and  audibly  to  sleep.  In  vain  the  four  candles 
were  snutled — in  vain  the  lecturer  told  his  audience  that  he  was 
"just  going  to  bite  off" — they  evidently  began  to  wish  their  six 
pences  back  in  their  pockets,  when  the  lecturer  finished  and  the 
violin  was  heard  once  more.  This  crisped  the  spirits  of  the  com 
pany  admirably,  and  the  most  curious  blundering  expositions  of 
the  Orrery  and  Tellurium  found  tolerably  willing  ears.  The 
showman  had  wisely  put  the  worst  first ;  and  now  having  done 
with  the  stars,  he  came  to  the  steam  gun,  which  took  very  well  ; 
the  alcohol  burning  properly  blue,  and  the  reports  being  managed 
with  the  gentleness  of  any  sucking  dove. 

But  the  cream  of  the  night  was  the  Magic  Lantern,  which  had 
at  least  the  merit  of  being  suited  to  the  apprehension  of  the  audi 
tory  ;  its  grotesque  figures  and  frightful  goblins  possessing,  too, 
the  additional  advantage  of  being  set  off  by  the  operator's  wit. 
The  extinguishment  of  the  lights  set  all  the  babies  crying  at  once  ; 
but  the  violin,  or  some  panacea  discovered  by  the  mammas,  quiet 
ed  them  after  a  while  ;  and  we  saw  "  the  ghost  that  scared  Lon 
don  for  twenty  years"  roll  his  eyes  horribly,  and  were  told  by 
the  operator  that  that  was  the  way  the  young  men  cast  sheep's 
eyes  when  they  went  a-sparking.  This  idea  created  a  laugh  of 
course,  which  seemed  a  happy  relief  to  some  of  the  spectators, 
who  had  begun  to  feel  verv  squeamish  at  the  sight  of  a  ghost.  The 
night-mare,  and  several  other  engaging  physiognomies,  were  still 
to  come,  and  after  all  was  over,  in  spite  of  desperate  jokes,  some 


BALL  AT  TIIRAM'S  HUDDLE.  17 


of  the  ladies  declared  audibly  as  they  went  out,  that  they  did  not 
expect  to  sleep  a  wink  all  night.  Yet  they  were  doubtless  sure 
not  to  miss  the  next  exhibition  of  the  same  kind. 

The  only  exception  to  the  choice  of  winter  for  regular  amuse 
ments,  is  the  ball  on  Independence  night,  or  rather  day,  for  we 
take  time  by  the  forelock.  In  the  sketch  which  follows,  I  have 
endeavoured  to  give  an  idea  of  one  of  these  ;  but  it  must  be  un 
derstood  that  the  description  applies  to  a  newly  settled  part  of  the 
country,  far  from  the  vicinity  of  any  large  town. 


IT  was  on  the  sultriest  of  all  melting  afternoons,  when  the  flies 
were  taking  an  unanimous  siesta,  and  the  bees,  baked  beyond 
honey  or  humming,  swung  idly  on  the  honeysuckles,  that  I  ob 
served,  with  half-shut  eye,  something  like  activity  among  the 
human  butterflies  of  our  most  peaceful  of  villages.  If  I  could 
have  persuaded  myself  to  turn  my  head,  I  might  doubtless  have 
ascertained  to  what  favoured  point  were  directed  the  steps  (hasty, 
considering  all  things,)  of  the  Miss  Liggits,  Miss  Finn,  and  my 
pretty  friend,  Fanny  Russell  ;  but  the  hour  was  unpropitious  to 
research,  and  slumber  beguiled  the  book  from  my  fingers,  before 
the  thought  "  Where  can  they  be  going  !"  had  fairly  passed 
through  my  mind.  Fancy  had  but  just  transported  me  to  the 
focus  of  a  circle  of  glass-blowers,  the  furnace  directly  in  front, 
and  the  glowing  fluid  all  round  me,  when  I  was  recalled  to  al 
most  equally  overcoming  realities,  by  a  light  tap  at  the  door.  I 
must  have  given  the  usual  invitation  mechanically,  for  before  I 
was  fairly  awake,  the  pink  face  of  one  of  my  own  hand-maidens 
shone  before  my  drowsy  eyes. 

"  If  you  don't  want  me  for  nothin',  I'd  like  to  go  down  to  the 
store  to  get  some  notions  for  the  ball." 

"  The  ball !  what !  a  red-hot  ball !"  I  replied,  for  the  drowsy 
influence  was  settling  over  me  again,  and  I  was  already  on  the 
deck  of  a  frigate,  in  the  midst  of  a  sharply-contested  action. 

"  Massy  no,  marm  !  this  here  Independence  ball  up  to  Thrarn's 
Huddle,"  said  Jane,  with  a  giggle. 

I  was  now  wide  awake  with  astonishment.  "  A  dance,  Jane, 
in  such  weather  as  this !" 

3 


18  WESTERN    CLEARINCS. 

"  Why  law  !  yes;  nothin'  makes  a  body  so  cool  as  dancin'  and 
drinkin'  hot  tea." 

This  was  beyond  argument.  Jane  departed,  and  I  amused 
myself  with  the  flittings  of  gingham  sun-bonnets  and  white  aprons 
up  and  down  the  street,  in  the  scorching  sun. 

It  was  waxing  toward  the  tea-hour,  when  that  prettiest  of  Fan- 
nies,  Kanny  Russell,  her  natural  ringlets  of  shadowy  gold,  which 
a  duchess  might  envy,  looking  all  the  richer  under  the  melting 
influence  of  the  time,  came  tripping  into  the  little  porch. 

"  If  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  lend  me  that  large  feather  fan; 
I  would  take  such  good  care  of  it!  It's  for  the  ball." 

Sweet  Fanny !  one  must  be  churlish  indeed,  to  deny  thee  a 
far  greater  boon  ! 

Next  came  that  imp,  Ring  Jones ;  but  he  goes  slyly  round  to 
the  kitchen-door,  with  an  air  of  great  importance.  Presently, 
enter  Jane. 

"  Ring  Jones  has  brought  a  kind  of  a  bill,  marm,  for  our  Mark; 
and  Mark  ain't  to  hum,  and  Ring  says  he  can't  go  without  an 
answer." 

"  But  I  cannot  answer  Mark's  billets,  you  know,  Jane." 

"No,  marm;  but — this  'ere  is  something  about  the  team,  I 
guess." 

And  in  the  mean  time  Jane  had,  sans  ceremonie,  broken  the 
wafer,  and  was  spelling  out  the  contents  of  Mark's  note. 

"  I  can't  justly  make  it  out ;  but  I  know  it's  something  about 
the  team  ;  and  they  want  an  answer  right  off." 

Thus  urged,  I  took  the  note,  which  was  after  this  fashion : 

"  The  agreeable  Cumpany  of  Mr.  Mark  Loring  and  Lady  is 
requested  to  G  Nobleses  Tavern  to  Thram's  huddle  Independence 
the  4th  July." 

And  here  followed  the  names  of  some  eight  or  ten  managers. 

"  But,  Jane,  here's  nothing  about  the  team,  after  all." 

"  Jist  look  o'  t'other  side,  marm  ;  you  see  they  didn't  want  to 
put  it  right  in  the  ticket,  like." 

Upon  this  hint,  I  discerned,  in  the  extreme  corner  of  the  paper, 
a  flourish  which  might  be  interpreted  "over."  Over  I  went  ac 
cordingly,  and  there  came  the  gist  of  the  matter. 

"  Mark  we  want  to  hav  you  be  ready  with  your  Team  at  one 


BALL  AT  THRAM'S  HUDDLE.  19 

o'clock  percisely  to  escort  the  ladies  if  you  can't  let  us  know  and 
don't  forgit  to  Put  in  as  many  Seats  as  you  can  and  All  your 
Buffaloes."* 

I  ventured  to  promise  that  the  team,  and  the  seats,  and  the  buf 
faloes,  should  be  at  Mark's  disposal  at  "  one  percisely,"  and 
Ring  Jones  departed,  highly  exalted  in  his  own  opinion,  by  the 
success  of  his  importunity. 

It  was  to  be  supposed  that  we  had  now  contributed  our  quota 
of  aid  on  this  patriotic  occasion  ;  but  it  seemed  that  more  was 
expected.  The  evening  was  far  advanced,  when  the  newly-in 
stalled  proprietor  of  the  half-finished  "hotel"  at  Thram's  Huddle, 
alighted  at  our  door;  and,  wiping  his  dripping  brow,  made  known 
the  astounding  fact  that  he  had  scoured  the  country  for  dried  ap 
ples,  without  success,  and  informed  us  that  he  had  come,  as  a 
dernier  resort,  to  beg  the  loan  of  some  ;  "  for,"  as  he  sensibly 
observed,  "  a  ball  without  no  pies,  was  a  thing  that  was  never 
heerd  on,  no  wheres." 

When  this  matter  was  settled,  he  mustered  courage  to  ask,  in 
addition,  for  the  great  favour  of  a  gallon  of  vinegar,  for  which  he 
declared  himself  ready  to  pay  any  price ;  "  that  is,  any  thing 
that  was  reasonable." 

I  could  not  refrain  from  inquiring  what  indispensable  purpose 
the  vinegar  was  to  serve. 

"Why,  for  the  lettuce,  you  see  ! — and  if  it's  pretty  sharp,  it  '11 
make  'em  all  the  spryer." 

Mr.  Noble  departed,  in  a  happy  frame  of  mind,  and  we  heard 
no  more  of  the  ball  that  night. 

The  next  day,  the  eldest  Miss  Liggitt  "jist  called  in,"  as  she 
happened  to  be  passing,  to  ask  if  I  was  "a-goin'  to  want  that 
'ere  flowery  white  bunnet-curting"  of  mine. 

Some  time  ago  I  might  not  have  comprehended  that  this  de 
scription  applied  to  a  blonde-gauze  veil,  which  had  seen  its  best 
days,  and  was  now  scarce  presentable.  It  did  not  require  any 
great  stretch  of  feminine  generosity  to  lend  this  ;  but  when  it 
carne  to  "  a  pair  of  white  lace  gloves,"  I  pleaded  poverty,  and 
got  off. 

*  It  may  be  necessary  to  inform  the  civilized  reader,  that  the  use  of  buffalo 
robes  in  July,  is  to  serve  the  purpose  of  cushions,  and  not  of  wrappers. 


20  v.  ;>TI:K\  CLEARINGS. 

Our  Jail",  \vlio  is  n  ally  quile  a  pretty  girl,  though  her  hair  be 
of  the  sandiest,  and  her  face  and  neck,  at  this  time  of  the  year, 
one  continuous  freckle,  had  set  her  heart  upon  a  certain  blue 
satin  ribbon,  which  she  did  not  like  exactly  to  borrow,  but  which 
she  had  none  the  less  made  up  her  mind  to  have,  for  the  grand 
occasion.     So  she  began,  like  an  able  tactician,  by  showing  me 
one  of  faded  scarlet,  on  which  she  requested  my  opinion. 
"  Don't  you  think  this'll  look  about  right  ?" 
<;  That  horrid  thing!     No,  Jane,  pray  don't  be  seen  in  that !" 
"  Well  !  what  kind  o'  colour  do  you  think  would  look  good 
with  this  belt  ?"  holding  up  a  cincture,  blue  as  the  cloudless  vault 
above  us. 

"  Blue,  or  white ;  certainly  not  scarlet." 

"  Ah  !  but  I  ha'n't  got  neither  one  nor  t'other  ;"  and  she  looked 
very  pensive. 

I  was  hard-hearted,  but  Jane  was  not  without  resource. 
"  If  you'd  a-mind  to  let  me  have  that  'ere  long  blue  one  o' 
your'n  :  you  don't  never  wear  it,  and  I'd  be  willin'  to  pay  you  for't. 
Who  could  hold  out  ?     The  azure  streamer  became  Jane's,  in 
fee  simple. 

Spruce  and  warm  looked  our  good  Mark,  in  his  tight  blue 
coat,  with  its  wealth  of  brass  buttons,  his  stock  five  fathoms 
— I  mean  inches — deep,  and  his  exceeding  square-toed  boots, 
bought  new  for  this  very  solemnity.  And  a  proud  and  pleased 
heart  beat  in  his  honest  bosom,  I  doubt  not,  as  he  drove  to  the 
place  of  rendezvous,  buffaloes  and  all,  witli  cerulean  Jane  at  his 
side,  a  full  half  hour  before  the  appointed  time.  They  need  not 
have  cautioned  Mark  to  be  "  pcrcise."  For  my  part,  I  longed  for 
"  the  receipt  of  fern-seed  to  walk  invisible,"  or  some  of  those  other 
talismans  which  used  in  the  good  old  times  to  help  people  into 
places  where  they  had  no  business  to  be  ;  and  in  this  instance,  the 
Fates  seemed  inclined  to  be  propitious,  in  a  degree  at  least. 

The  revellers  had  scarcely  passed  on  the  western  road  in  long 
and  most  rapid  procession — the  dust  they  raised  had  certainly  not 
subsided — when  a  black  cloud,  which  had  risen  stealthily  while 
all  were  absorbed  in  the  outfit,  !»-fran  to  unfold  its  ominous  shroud. 
The  fringes  of  this  portentous  curtain  scarcely  passed  the 
zenith,  when  a  low,  distant  muttering,  and  a  few  scattering  but 


BALL  AT  THRAM'S  HUDDLE.  21 


immense  drops,  gave  token  of  what  was  coming  ;  and  long  ere 
the  gay  cortege  could  have  reached  the  Huddle,  which  is  fully  six 
miles  distant,  a  heavy  shower,  with  thunder  and  lightning  accom 
paniments,  must  have  made  wet  drapery  of  every  damsel's 
anxiously  elaborate  ball-dress.  Beaver  and  broad-cloth  might 
survive  such  a  deluge,  but  alas  for  white  dresses,  long  ringlets, 
and  blonde-gauze  "  bunnet-curtings  !" 

The  shower  was  too  violent  to  last,  and  when  it  had  subsided, 
and  all  was 

"  Fresh  as  if  Day  again  were  born, 
Again  upon  the  lap  of  Morn," 

I  fortunately  recollected  an  excellent  reason  for  a  long  drive, 
("  man  is  his  own  Fate,")  which  would  bring  us  into  the  very 
sound  of  the  violins  of  the  Huddle.  A  young  woman  who  had 
filled  the  very  important  place  of  "  help"  in  our  family,  was 
lying  very  ill  at  her  father's  ;  and  the  low  circumstances  of  her 
parents  made  it  desirable  that  she  should  be  frequently  remem 
bered  by  her  friends  during  her  tedious  illness.  So  in  a  light 
open  wagon,  with  a  smart  pony,  borrowed  for  the  nonce,  selon  les 
regies,  we  had  a  charming  drive,  and  moreover,  the  much-coveted 
pleasure  of  seeing  the  heads  of  the  assembled  company  at  Mr. 
Noble's  ;  some  bobbing  up  and  down,  some  stretched  far  out  of 
the  window,  getting  breath  for  the  next  exercise,  and  some,  with 
bodies  to  them,  promenading  the  hall  below.  I  tried  hard  to 
distinguish  the  "  belle  chevelure"  of  my  favourite  Fanny  Russell, 
or  the  straight  back  and  nascent  whiskers  of  our  own  Mark ;  but 
we  passed  too  rapidly  to  see  all  that  was  to  be  seen,  and  in  a  few 
moments  found  ourselves  at  the  bars  which  led  to  the  forlorn 
dwelling  of  poor  Mary  Anne  Simms. 

The  only  apartment  that  Mr.  Simms'  log-hut  could  boast. 
was  arranged  with  a  degree  of  neatness  which  made  a  visitor 
forget  its  lack  of  almost  all  the  other  requisites  for  comfort ;  and 
one  corner  was  ingeniously  turned  into  a  nice  little  room  for  the 
sick  girl,  by  the  aid  of  a  few  rough  boards  eked  out  by  snow- 
white  curtains.  I  raised  the  light  screen,  and  what  bright  vision 
should  meet  my  eyes,  but  the  identical  Fanny,  for  whom  I  had 
looked  in  vain  among  the  bobbing  heads  at  the  Huddle.  She  was 


22  WESTERN   CLEARINCS. 

whispering  kindly  to  Mary  Anno,  whose  pale  cheek  had  acquired 
something  like  a  flush,  and  her  eyes  a  decided  moisture,  from  the 
sense  of  Fanny's  cheering  kindness. 

Fanny  explained  very  modestly  :  "  f  was  so  near  Mary  Anne, 
and  I  didn't  know  when  I  should  get  time  to  come  again " 

"  Didn't  you  get  wet,  coming  over  ?" 

11  Not  so  very  :  we — we  had  an  umbrella." 

I  remembered  having  lent  one  to  Mark. 

"  But  you  are  losing  the  ball,  Fanny  ;  you'll  not  get  your 
share  of  the  dancing."  And  at  this  moment  I  heard  a  new  step 
in  the  outer  part  of  the  room,  and  a  very  familiar  voice  just  out 
side  the  curtain : 

"  Come,  Miss  Russell,  isn't  it  about  time  to  be  a-goin'  ?  There's 
another  shower  a-comin'  up.'* 

Fanny  started,  blushed,  and  took  leave.  Common  humanity 
obliged  us  to  give  time  for  a  retreat,  before  we  followed  ;  for  we 
well  knew  that  our  very  precise  Mr.  Loring  would  not  have  been 
brought  face  to  face  with  us,  just  then,  for  the  world.  When  we 
did  emerge,  the  sky  was  threatening  enough,  and  as  there  was 
evidently  no  room  for  us  where  we  were,  we  had  no  resource  but 
lo  make  a  rapid  transit  to  Mr.  Noble's.  We  gained  the  noisy 
shelter  just  in  time.  Such  a  shower  ! — and  it  proved  much  more 
pertinacious  than  its  predecessor;  so  that  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
sitting  in  "  Miss  Nobleses"  kitchen  for  an  hour  or  more.  We 
were  most  politely  urged  to  join  the  festivities  which  were  now 
shaking  the  frail  tenement  almost  to  dislocation  ;  but  even  if  we 
had  been  ball-goers,  we  should  have  been  strikingly  de  trop,  where 
the  company  was  composed  exclusively  of  young  folks.  So  we 
chose  the  kitchen. 

The  empress  of  this  torrid  region,  a  tall  and  somewhat  doleful 
looking  dame,  was  in  all  the  agonies  of  preparation  ;  and  she 
certainly  was  put  to  her  utmost  stretch  of  invention,  to  obtain 
access  to  the  fire-place,  where  some  of  the  destined  delicacies  of 
the  evening  were  still  in  process  of  qualification,  so  dense  was  the 
crowd  of  damp  damsels,  who  were  endeavouring  in  various  ways 
to  repair  the  cruel  ravages  of  the  shower.  One  "  jist  wanted  to 
dry  her  shoes  ;"  another  was  dodging  after  a  hot  iron,  "jist  to  rub 
off  her  hankercher  ;"  while  others  were  taking  turns  in  pinching 


BALL  AT  TH RAM'S  HUDDLE.  23 


with  the  great  kitchen  tongs  the  long  locks  which  streamed, 
Ophelia-like,  around  their  anxious  faces.  Poor  "  Miss  Nobles" 
edged,  and  glided,  and  stooped,  among  her  humid  guests,  with  a 
patience  worthy  of  all  praise  ;  supplying  this  one  with  a  pin,  that 
with  a  needle-and-thread,  and  the  other  with  one  of  her  own  side- 
combs ;  though  the  last  mentioned  act  of  courtesy  forced  her  to 
tuck  behind  her  ear  one  of  the  black  tresses  which  usually  lay 
coiled  upon  her  temple.  In  short,  the  whole  affair  was  a  sort  of 
prelibation  of  the  Tournament,  saving  that,  my  Queen  of  Beauty 
and  Love  was  more  fortunate  than  the  Lady  Seymour,  in  that 
her  coiffure  is  decidedly  improved  by  wet  weather,  which  is  more 
than  could  probably  be  said  of  her  ladyship's. 

At  length,  but  after  a  weary  while,  all  was  done  that  could  be 
done  toward  a  general  beautification  ;  and  those  whose  array 
was  utterly  beyond  remedy,  scampered  up  stairs  with  the  rest, 
wisely  resolving  not  to  lose  the  fun,  merely  because  they  were 
not  fit  to  be  seen. 

The  dancing  now  became  "  fast,  and  furious,"  and  the  spirit  of 
the  hour  so  completely  aroused  that  thirst  for  knowledge  which  is 
slanderously  charged  upon  my  sex  as  a  foible,  that  I  hesitated  not 
to  slip  up  stairs,  and  take  advantage  of  one  of  the  various  knot-holes 
in  the  oak  boards  which  formed  one  side  of  the  room,  in  order 
that  a  glimpse  of  something  like  the  realities  of  the  thing  might 
aid  an  imagination  which  could  never  boast  of  being  "  all  com 
pact."  It  was  but  a  glimpse,  to  be  sure,  for  three  candles  can 
do  but  little  toward  illuminating  a  long  room,  with  dark  brown 
and  very  rough  walls  ;  but  there  was  a  tortuous  country-dance, 
one  side  quivering  and  fluttering  in  all  the  colours  of  the  rain 
bow,  the  other  presenting  more  nearly  the  similitude  of  a  funeral ; 
for  our  beaux,  in  addition  to  the  solemn  countenances  which  they 
think  proper  to  adopt  on  all  occasions  of  festivity,  have  imbibed 
the  opinion  that  nothing  but  broad-cloth  is  sufficiently  dignified 
wear  for  a  dance,  be  the  season  what  it  may.  And  there 
were  the  four  Miss  Liggets,  Miss  Mehitable  in  white,  Miss 
Polly  Ann  in  green,  Miss  Lucindy  in  pink,  and  Miss  Olive  all 
over  black-and-blue,  saving  the  remains  of  the  blonde-gauze 
veil,  which  streamed  after  her  like  a  meteor,  as  she  galoped, 
"  down  the  middle."  My  own  Jane  was  playing  oif  her  most 


24  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

reclierclices  graces  at  the  expense  of  the  deputy  sheriff,  who 
seemed  lor  once  caught,  instead  of  catching  ;  and  to  my  great 
surprise,  Fanny  Russell,  evidently  in  the  pouts,  under  cover  of 
my  fan.  was  enacting  the  part  of  wall-flower,  while  Mark  leaned 
far  out  of  the  window,  at  the  risk  of  taking  an  abrupt  leave  of 
the  company. 

Peeping  is  tiresome.  I  was  not  sorry  when  the  dance  came  to 
an  end,  as  even  count ry-dances  must ;  and  when  I  had  waited  to 
see  the  ladies  arranged  in  a  strip  at  one  end  of  the  room,  and  the 
gentlemen  in  ditto  at  the  other,  and  old  Knapp  the  fiddler  testing 
the  absorbent  powers  of  a  large  red  cotton  handkerchief  upon  a 
brow  as  thickly  beaded  as  the  fair  neck  of  any  one  of  the 
nymphs  around  him,  (and  some  of  them  had  necklaces  which 
would  have  satisfied  a  belle  among  our  neighbours,  the  Pottowa- 
tomies.)  I  ran  down  stairs  again,  to  prepare  for  our  moonlight 
flitting. 

Mrs.  Noble  now  renewed  her  entreaties  that  we  would  at  least 
stay  for  supper;  and  in  the  pride  of  her  heart,  and  the  energy 
of  her  hospitality,  she  opened  her  oven-door,  and  holding  a  candle 
that  I  might  not  fail  to  discern  all  its  temptations,  pointed  out  to 
me  two  pigs,  a  large  wild  turkey,  a  mammoth  rice-pudding,  and 
an  endless  array  of  pics  of  all  sizes;  and  these  she  declared 
were  "  not  a  beginning"  of  what  was  intended  for  the  "  refresh- 
ment"  of  the  company.  A  cup-board  was  next  displayed,  where, 
among  custards,  cakes,  and  "  saaso,"  or  preserves,  of  different 
kinds,  figured  great  dishes  of  lettuce,  "  all  ready,  only  jist  to 
pour  the  vinegar  and  molasses  over  it,"  bowls  of  large  pickled 
cucumbers,  and  huge  pyramids  of  dough-nuts.  But  we  continued 
inexorable,  and  were  just  taking  our  leave,  when  Fanny  Russell, 
her  pretty  eyes  overflowing  and  her  whole  aspect  evincing  the 
^n-atest  vexation  and  discomposure,  came  running  down  stairs, 
and  bogged  we  would  let  her  go  home  with  us. 

"  What  can  be  the  matter,  Fanny  !" 

"  Oh,  nothing  !  nothing  at  all  !     But — I  want  to  go  home." 

It  is  never  of  much  use  advising  young  girls,  when  they  have 
made  up  their  minds  to  be  foolish  ;  yet  I  did  just  call  my  little 
favourite  aside,  and  give  her  a  friendly  caution  not  to  expose  her- 
self  to  the  charge  of  being  rude  or  touchy.  But  this  brought 


BALL  AT  TIIRAM'S  HUDDLE.  25 

only  another  shower  of  tears,  and  a  promise  that  she  would  tell 
me  all  about  it ;  so  we  took  her  in  and  drove  off. 

I  could  not  but  reflect,  as  we  went  saunteringly  home,  enjoy 
ing  the  splendour  of  the  moonlight,  and  the  delicious  balminess 
of  that  "  stilly  hour,"  how  much  all  balls  are  alike.  Here  had 
been  all  the  solicitude  and  sacrifice  in  the  preparation  of  cos 
tume  ;  all  the  effort  and  expense  in  providing  the  refreshments  ;  for 
the  champagne  and  ices,  the  oysters  and  the  perigord  pies,  are  no 
more  to  the  pampered  citizen,  than  are  the  humbler  cates  we  have 
attempted  to  enumerate,  to  the  plain  and  poor  back-woodsman  ; 
then  here  was  the  belle  of  the  evening,  in  as  pretty  a  paroxysm 
of  insulted  dignity,  as  could  have  been  displayed  on  the  most 
classically-chalked  floor  ;  and,  to  crown  all,  judging  from  past  ex- 
Derience  in  these  regions,  some  of  the  "  gentlemen"  at  least 
would,  like  their  more  refined  prototypes,  vindicate  their  claims 
to  the  title,  by  going  home  vociferously  drunk.  We  certainly  are 
growing  very  elegant. 

Fanny's  explanation  was  deferred,  at  her  own  request,  until 
the  following  morning  ;  and  long  before  she  made  her  promised 
visit,  Jane,  who  came  home  at  day-light,  and  only  allowed  herself 
a  change  of  dress  before  she  entered  soberly  upon  her  domestic 
duties,  had  disclosed  to  me  the  mighty  mystery.  It  had  been  the 
opinion  of  every  body,  Jane  herself  included,  (a  little  green-eyed, 
I  fancy,)  that  Fanny  and  Mark  had  gone  off  to  Squire  Porter's 
and  got  married,  under  cover  of  the  visit  to  poor  Mary  Anne. 
This  idea  once  started,  the  beaux  and  belles,  not  better  bred  than 
some  I  have  seen  elsewhere,  had  not  suffered  the  joke  to  drop,  but 
pushed  their  raillery  so  far,  that  Fanny  had  fairly  given  up  and 
run  away,  while  Mark,  however  well  pleased  in  his  secret  soul, 
had  thought  it  necessary  to  be  very  angry,  and  to  throw  out  sun- 
dry  hints  of  "  thrashing"  some  of  the  stouter  part  of  the  com- 
pany.  The  peace  had  not  actually  been  broken,  however ;  and 
when  I  saw  and  talked  with  Fanny,  the  main  difficulty  seemed  to 
relate  to  the  future  course  of  conduct  to  be  observed  toward 
Mark,  who,  as  Fanny  declared,  with  another  sprinkling  of  tears, 
had  "  never  thought  of  saying  such  a  word  to  her  in  his  life  !" 

Women  are  excellent  manoeuverers  generally,  but  we  were 
outdone  here.  All  our  dignified  plans  for  acting  "  as  if  nothing 


26  WESTERN   CLEARIXCS. 


had  happened,"  were  routed  by  a  counter  scheme  of  Mark  him 
self,  who,  before  the  week  was  out,  not  only  said  "sia  h  a  \\ord," 
but  actually  persuaded  Fanny  to  think  that  the  best  of  all  ways 
to  disprove  what  had  been  said,  was  to  go  to  Sfjuire  Porter's,  and 
make  it  true,  which  was  accordingly  accomplished,  within  the 
fortnight. 

il  And  what  for  no  ?"  Mark  Loring,  with  a  very  good-looking 
face,  and  a  person  "  as  straight  as  a  gun-barrel"  (to  borrow  a 
favourite  comparison  of  his  own,)  has  the  wherewithal  to  make 
a  simple  and  industrious  country  maiden  very  comfortable.  He 
has  long  been  earning,  by  the  labour  of  his  hands,  far  better  pay 
than  is  afforded  to  our  district  schoolmaster;  and  witli  the  well- 
saved  surplus  has  purchased  a  small  farm,  which  he  and  his 
pretty  wife  are  improving  wjt|,  all  their  might.  No  more  balls 
for  my  bright-haired  neighbour,  or  her  sober  spouse  !  And  if  f 
should  tell  my  honest  sentiments,  I  should  say  "so  much  the  bet 
ter!"  for  in  the  hastening  of  the  happy  marriage  of  Mark  and 
Fanny,  may  be  summed  up  all  the  good  which  I  have  yet  oh- 
served  to  result  from  the  ball  at  Thram's  Huddle,  or  anv  other  in 
our  vicinity. 


A  FOREST  FETE.  27 


A   FOREST   FETE. 


A  LESS  common  and  natural  accompaniment  of  our  national 
holiday  is  a  party  of  pleasure,  or  some  device  to  pass  the  day  in 
quiet  amusement,  instead  of  the  noisy  demonstrations  which  seem 
to  serve  as  a  safety-valve  for  the  exuberance  of  animal  spirits 
so  habitually  repressed  throughout  the  United  States  during  the  re 
mainder  of  the  year.  Gunpowder  in  unpractised'  bands  is  the 
cause  of  so  much  evil,  and  its  natural  friend  and  ally,  whiskey, 
so  inimical  to  peace  and  good  order,  that  it  is  an  object  of  no 
small  solicitude  to  the  soberer  classes  in  the  new  country  to  devise 
some  mode  of  celebrating  "  Independence"  that  shall  not  end  in 
bloodshed  and  mortal  quarrels.  A  Sunday  school  celebration — 
one  on  a  large  scale,  that  should  bring  children  and  parents,  from 
far  and  near,  to  hear  addresses,  sing  songs,  and  enjoy  a  rustic  feast 
under  a  long  bower  of  fresh  branches,  was  tried  one  year  ;  but 
the  opposition  of  the  powder  party  was  so  bitter  that  very  little 
was  gained  in  the  way  of  peace,  although  perhaps  some  broken 
bones  and  blistered  faces  were  saved.  Even  on  that  occasion, 
however,  1  recollect  that  a  son  of  one  of  our  neighbours,  attempt 
ing  to  bld\v  off  some  scattered  grains  of  coarse  powder  from  near 
the  touch-hole  of  the  one-pounder  that  was  fired  all  day  by  the 
opposition,  suddenly  found  the  whole  of  it — the  powder,  not  the 
gun — firmly  imbedded  in  his  face,  just  beneath  the  skin  ;  and  al 
though  his  mother  picked  out  many  grains  with  her  needle,  and 
others  made  their  own  way  out  by  suppuration,  he  will  still  carry  to 
his  grave  such  a  curiously  tattooed  physiognomy  as  will  serve  to 
remind  him  of  the  glorious  Fourth,  let  his  lot  be  cast  where  it  may. 

Another  device  for  the  more  refined  enjoyment  of  the  day  was  a 
pic-nic  party,  such  as  is  here  sketched  under  the  title  of  a  Forest 
Fete.  This  sketch  is  not  to  be  received  as  history  any  more  than 


23  WESTERN    CLKAUINCS. 

many  utln-rs  of  a  similar  tone.  Real  occurrences  arc  introduced, 
but  fancy  and  general  recollections  furnished  the  warp  into  which 
such  scraps  of  truth  are  woven — characteristic  correctness  being 
the  only  aim. 

If  there  be  any  feeling  in  the  American  bosom  which  may  be 
considered  a  substitute  for  that  "  loyalty"  of  which  the  renowned 
Captain  Hall  so  pathetically  notices  the  lamentable  lack,  it  is  the 
enthusiasm  which  is  annually  rekindled,  even  in  the  most  utilita 
rian  and  dollar-worshipping  souls  among  us,  by  the  return  of  "  In- 
drpi  ndence  day."  The  first  sign  of  the  dawning  of  this  .virtue  is 
discoverable  in  the  penchant  of  our  younglings  ibr  Chinese  crack 
ers,  and  indeed  gunpowder  in  any  form,  always  evinced  during 
the  last  days  of  June  and  the  opening  ones  of  July  ;  a  season  in 
which  he  whose  pockets  will  hold  money,  must  be  either  more  or 
less  than  boy.  And  as  "  the  child  is  father  of  the  man,"  the 
passion  for  showing  joy  and  gratitude  through  the  medium  of 
gunpowder  seems  to  increase  and  strengthen  with  every  recur 
rence  of  our  national  festival,  till  as  much  "  villanous  saltpetre" 
is  expended  on  a  single  celebration  as  would  have  sufficed  our 
revolutionary  forefathers  to  win  a  pitched  battle.  The  gentler 
sex,  partaking,  by  sympathy  at  least,  in  the  excitement  of  the 
time,  yet  exhibit  their  patriotism  by  less  noisy  demonstrations:  by 
immeasurable  pink  ribbons;  by  quadruple  consumption  of  sugar 
candy  ;  by  patient  endurance  of  unmerciful  spouting;  by  unwea 
ried  running  after  the  "  trainers,"  and  shrill  and  pretty  shrieking 
at  the  popping;  and  sometimes,  in  primitive  and  unsophisticated 
regions,  by  getting  up  parties  of  pleasure,  with  the  aid  of  such 
beaux  as  they  can  inveigle  from  amusements  better  suited  to  the 
dignity  of  the  sex,  such  as  drinking,  scrub-racing  ;  firing  salutes 
from  hollow  logs,  or  blacksmiths'  anvils  ;  playing  "  fox-and- 
geesu"  for  sixpences;  or  shooting  at  a  turkey  tied  to  a  post,  at  a 
shilling  the  chance. 

One  particular  Independence  day  not  many  years  sinsyne  is 
memorable  in  our  village  annals.  It  was  probably  owing  to  the 
fact  that  gunpowder  was  not  very  abundant,  that  some  of  the  elite 
of  the  settlement  proposed  a  select  pic-nic,  to  be  held  on  the  shore 
of  a  beautiful,  lonely  sheet  of  water,  which  having  nothing  else 
to  do,  reflects  the  flitting  clouds  at  no  great  distance  from  our 


A  FOREST  FETE.  29 

clearing.  A  famous  time  it  was,  and  a  still  more  famous  one  it 
would  have  been,  but  for  an  idea  which  sprang  up  among  certain 
of  our  rural  exclusives,  that  it  was  ungenteel  to  appear  pleased 
with  what  delighted  others.  I  say  "  sprang  up,"  because  I  feel 
assured  that  our  fashionables  had  never  even  read  of  the  airs  of 
their  thorough-bred  prototypes ;  and  from  a  retrospect  of  the 
whole  affair,  I  am  convinced  that  the  human  mind  has  a  natural 
tendency  toward  exclusiveisrn.  This  effort  at  superior  refine 
ment,  with  some  slight  mistakes  and  disappointments,  clouded 
somewhat  the  enjoyment  of  the  occasion  ;  but  on  the  whole,  the 
iffair  went  off  at  least  as  well  as  such  preconcerted  pleasures  do 

jlsewhere.  Mr.  Towson  and  Mr.  Turner,  to  be  sure But 

let  us  begin  at  the  beginning. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  auspicious  than  our  outset. 
All  the  good  stars  seemed  in  conjunction  for  once,  and  their 
kindly  influence  lent  unwonted  lustre  to  the  eyes  of  the  ladies 
and  the  boots  of  the  gentlemen.  Every  body  felt  confident  that 
every  thing  had  been  thought  of;  nobody  could  recollect  any 
body  tnat  was  any  body,  who  had  not  been  included  in  the  "  very 
select"  circle  of  invitation.  Plenty  of  u  teams"  had  been  en- 
gagC(j — for  who  thinks  of  ploughing  or  haying  on  Independence 
day  ? — an  the  whips  were  provided  with  red  snappers,  and  cock 
ades  and  streamers  of  every  hue  decorated  the  tossing  heads  of 
our  gallant  steeds.  Indeed,  to  do  them  justice,  the  horses  seemed 
as  much  excited  as  any  body.  Provant  in  any  quantity,  from 
roast-pig,  (the  peacock  of  all  our  feasts,)  to  custards,  lemonade, 
and  green  tea,  had  been  duly  packed  and  cared  for.  Music  had 
not  been  forgotten,  for  one  of  the  party  played  the  violin  a  mer- 
ville,  to  the  extent  of  two  country  dances  and  half  a  quadrille, 
while  another  beau  was  allowed  to  be  a  "  splendid  whistler,"  and 
a  third,  who  had  cut  his  ankle  with  a  scythe,  and  could  not 
dance,  had  borrowed  the  little  triangle  from  the  hotel,  which  we 
all  agreed  to  look  upon  as  a  tambourine  when  it  should  mark  the 
time  for  the  dancers,  and  a  gong  when  employed  in  its  more  ac 
customed  office  of  calling  the  hungry  to  supper.  So  we  were 
unexceptionably  provided  for  at  all  points. 

The  day  was  such  as  we  often  have  during  the  warm  months 
— the  most  delicious  that  can  be  imagined.  From  the  first 


30  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

pearly  streak  of  dawn,  to  the  last  fainting  crimson  of  a  Claude 
sunset,  no  cloud  was  any  where  but  where  it  should  have  been, 
to  enhance  the  intensity  of  a  blue  that  was  truly  "  Heaven's 
own'' — inimitable,  unapproachable  by  any  effort  of  human  art. 
A  light  crisping  breeze  rufiled  the  surface  of  the  lake,  whose 
shaded  borders  furnished  many  a  swelling  sofa  of  verdant  turf  for 
the  loungers,  as  well  as  a  wide  and  smooth  area  for  the  exertions 
of  the  nimble-footed.  Here  we  alighted  ;  here  were  our  shining 
steeds  tethered  among  the  oak  bushes  to  browse,  to  their  v«  ry 
great  satisfaction  ;  our  flags  were  planted,  and,  to  omit  nothing 
appropriate  to  the  occasion,  our  salute  was  fired,  with  the  aid  of 
what  a  voung  lady  who  went  into  becoming  hysterics  declared  to 
be  a  six- pounder,  but  which  proved  on  inquiry  to  be  only  a  horse- 
pistol  ;  our  belle  refusing  to  be  convinced,  however,  on  the  ground 
that  she  had  heard  a  six-pounder  go  off  at  Detroit,  and  certainly 
ought  to  know.  "  Quelle  imagination  /" — as  a  French  gentle 
man  of  our  acquaintance  used  to  exclaim  admiringly,  when  his 
children  perpetrated  the  most  elaborate  and  immeasurable  fibs — 
"  quelle  imagination  !" 

When  this  was  over,  Mr.  Towson,  a  very  tall  and  slender 
young  gentleman,  who  is  considered  (and  I  believe  not  without 
reason,)  a  promising  youth,  proposed  reading  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  and  had  drawn  out  his  pocket-handkerchief  for  the 
purpose,  observing  very  appositely  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  that 
declaration  we  should  never  have  been  keeping  Independence  on 
the  shores  of  Onion  Lake,  when  he  was  voted  down  ;  every  body 
talking  at  once,  to  make  it  clear  that  a  sail  on  the  said  lake  ought 
to  precede  the  reading.  Mr.  Towson  assented  with  the  best  grace 
he  could  muster,  to  a  decision  that  reduced  him,  for  the  present 
at  least,  to  a  place  in  the  ranks,  and  otic  ring  his  arm  to  Miss 
Weatherwax,  an  imaginative  young  lady,  a  belle  from  a  rival 
village,  he  attempted  with  a  very  gallant  air  to  lead  the  way  to 
the  larger  of  the  two  boats  provided  for  our  accommodation. 
Now  it  so  happened  that  this  said  large  boat,  having  a  red  hand 
kerchief  displayed  aloft,  had  been  by  common  consent  styled 
"  the  Commodore ;"  and  these  advantages  being  considered,  it 
may  readily  be  inferred  that  each  and  every  individual  who 
rneaat  to  "tempt  the  waves"  had  secretly  resolved  to  secure  a 


A  FOREST  FETE.  31 


seat  in  it.  But  as  the  unlucky  beau  urged  his  fair  companion 
forward,  another,  who  had  been  deeply  engaged  with  two  of  our 
own  belles  in  the  discussion  of  a  paper  of  sweeties,  observing  a 
movement  toward  the  beach,  was  on  the  alert  in  an  instant,  and 
with  a  lady  on  each  arm,  made  first  way  to  the  Commodore ;  all 
scattering  sugar-plums  as  they  went,  to  serve  as  a  clue  to  those 
who  might  choose  to  follow  in  their  wake.  Not  among  these  was 
the  spirited  Mr.  Towson.  He  declared  that  the  other  boat  would 
be  far  pleasanter,  and  Miss  Weatherwax  being  quite  of  his  opin 
ion,  he  led  her  to  the  best  (i.  e.  the  driest)  seat  in  it,  and  procured 
a  large  green  branch,  which  he  held  over  her  by  way  of  parasol, 
or  rather  awning.  The  company  in  general  now  followed,  ta 
king  seats,  since  the  ton  was  thus  divided,  in  either  boat,  as  choice 
or  convenience  dictated.  All  seemed  very  well,  though  this  was 
in  fact  the  beginning  of  an  unfortunate  split,  which  from  that  mo 
ment  divided  our  company  into  parties ;  the  largest,  viz.,  that 
which  took  possession  of  "  the  Commodore,"  claiming  of  course 
to  be  the  orthodox,  or  regular  line,  while  the  other  was  considered 
only  an  upstart,  or  opposition  concern.  The  latter,  as  usual, 
monopolized  the  wit.  They  amused  themselves  by  calling  the 
exclusives  "  squatters,"  "  preemptioners,"  &c.,  and  reiterated 
so  frequently  their  self-congratulations  upon  having  obtained  seats 
in  the  smaller  craft,  that  it  might  be  shrewdly  guessed  they  wish 
ed  themselves  any  where  else. 

The  sail  was  long  and  hot,  especially  to  the  excluded  ;  for  the 
Commodore  having  made  at  once  for  a  narrow  part  of  the  lake, 
shaded  by  overhanging  trees,  and  enjoying  the  advantage  of  a 
breeze  from  the  south,  dignity  required  that  the  other  boat  should 
take  an  opposite  course.  It  accordingly  meandered  about  under 
the  broiling  sun,  until  the  reflection  from  the  water  had  baked  the 
ladies'  faces  into  a  near  resemblance  to  that  of  the  rising  harvest 
moon ;  these  very  ladies,  with  the  heroic  self-devotion  of  martyrs, 
declaring  they  never  had  so  pleasant  a  sail  in  their  lives. 

Meanwhile,  those  of  us  whom  advanced  years  or  soberer  taste 
disposed  rather  to  tea  and  talk  than  to  songs  and  sailing,  were 
busily  engaged  in  arranging  to  the  best  advantage  the  variety  of 
good  things  provided  for  the  refreshment  of  the  company.  This 
proved  by  no  means  so  easy  a  task  as  the  uninitiated  may  sup- 


32  WESTERN   CI.EARIXfiS. 


pose.  Our  party,  which  was  originu'.ly  to  nave  ln-i  n  a  small  one, 
had  swelled  by  degrees  to  something  like  forty  persons,  by  the 
usual  process  of  adding,  lor  various  good  reasons,  people  who 
at  first  voted  out.  No  agreement  having  been  entered  into 
as  to  the  classification  of  the  articles  to  be  furnished  by  each,  it 
proved,  on  unpacking  the  baskets,  that  there  had  been  an  incon 
venient  unanimity  of  taste  in  the  selection.  At  least  one  dozen 
1:00,1  housewives  had  thought  it  like  enough  every  body  would 
forget  butter;  so  that  we  had  enough  of  a  fluid  article  so  called, 
to  have  smoothed  the  lake  in  case  of  a  tempest.  Then  we  hud 
dozens  and  dozens  of  extra  knives  and  forks,  and  scarce  a  single 
spoon;  acres  of  pie  with  very  few  plates  to  eat  it  from  ;  tea-kettles 
and  tea-jxjts.  but  no  cups  and  saucers.  The  young  men  with 
a  never-to-be-sufficiently-commended  gallantry,  had  provided 
good  store  of  lemons,  which  do  not  grow  in  the  oak-openings  ;  but 
alas  !  though  sugar  was  reasonably  abundant,  we  searched  in 
vain  for  any  thing  which  would  answer  to  hold  our  sherbet,  and 
all  the  baskets  turned  out  afforded  but  six  tumblers. 

These  and  similar  matters  were  still  under  discussion,  and  much 
ingenuity  had  been  evinced  in  the  suggestion  of  substitutes,  when 
one  of  the  boating  parties  announced  its  return  by  the  discharge 
of  the  same  piece  of  ordnance  which  had  frightened  Miss  Weath- 
erwax  from  her  propriety,  on  our  arrival.  We  now  hastened  our 
preparation  f»r  the  repast,  and  some  of  the  gentlemen  having  pro 
cured  some,  deliciously  cool  water  from  a  spring  at  a  little  dis 
tance,  and  borrowed  a  large  tin  pail  and  sundry  other  convenien 
ces  from  a  lady  whose  log-house  showed  picturesquely  from  the 
depths  of  the  wood,  the  lemonade  was  prepared,  and  all  things  de 
clared  ready.  But  the  other  boat,  the  opposition  line,  as  it  was 
denominated  in  somewhat  pettish  fun,  still  kept  its  distance. 
Handkerchiefs  were  waved  ;  the  six-pounder  horse-pistol  went  off 
with  our  last  charge  of  powder  ;  but  the  "  spunky"  craft  still  con 
tinued  veering  al.out.  determined  neither  to  see  nor  hear  our  sig 
nals,  [t  was  n->w  proposed  that  we  should  proceed  without  the 
secedcrs,  hut  H  this  d.  sp.-rai.-  measure  the  more  prudent  part  of  the 
company  made  strenuous  objection.  So  we  waited  with  grumbling 
politeness  till  it  suited  the  left  branch  of  our  troop  to  rejoin  us, 
which  g;.ve  time  to  warm  the  lemonade  and  cool  the  tea.  We 


A  FOREST  FETE.  33 


tried  to  look  good-humoured  or  indifferent ;  but  there  were  some 
on  whose  unpliant  brows  frowns  left  their  trace,  though  smiles 
shone  faint  below.  The  late  arrival  laughed  a  good  deal ;  quite 
boisterously,  we  thought,  and  boasted  what  a  charming  time  they 
had. 

"  Had  you  any  music  ?"  asked  Mr.  Towson  of  Mr.  Turner,  the 
hero  of  the  Commodore's  crew,  with  an  air  of  friendly  interest. 

"  No,"  said  the  respondent,  taken  by  surprise. 

"  Ah  !  there  now  !  what  a  pity  !  I  wish  you  had  been  near  us, 
that  you  might  have  had  the  benefit  of  ours  !  The  ladies  sang 
'  Bonnie  Doon,'  and  every  thing  ;  and  '  I  see  them  on  their  wind 
ing  way  ;'  and it  went  like  ile,  Sir." 

"  *  Winding  way !'  you  might  have  seen  yourselves  on  your 
winding  way,  if  you'd  been  where  we  was  !"  said  the  rival  beau, 
with  an  air  of  deep  scorn.  "  What  made  you  go  wheeling  about 
in  the  sun  so  ?" 

"  Fishing,  Sir — the  ladies  were  a-fishing,  Sir  !" 

"  Fishing  !     Did  you  catch  any  thing  ?" 

"  No,  Sir  !  we  did  not  catch  any  thing !  We  did  not  wish  to 
catch  any  thing  !  We  were  fishing  for  amusement,  Sir  !" 

"  Oh  ! — ah !  fishing  for  amusement,  eh  !" 

But  here  the  call  to  the  banquet  came  just  in  time  to  stop  the 
fermentation  before  it  reached  the  acetous  stage,  and  brows  and 
pocket-kerchiefs  were  smoothed  as  we  disposed  ourselves  in  every 
variety  of  Roman  attitude,  and  some  that  Rome  in  all  her  glory 
never  knew,  reclining  round  the  long-drawn  array  of  table-cloths 
upon  whose  undulating  surface  our  multitudinous  refreshment 
was  deployed.  Shawls,  cloaks,  and  buffalo-robes  formed  our 
couches — giant  oaks  our  pillared  roof.  We  had  tin  pails  and 
cups  to  match,  instead  of  vases  of  marble  and  goblets  of  burning 
gold.  But  nobody  missed  these  imaginary  advantages.  Talk 
flagged  not,  as  it  is  apt  to  do  amid  scenes  of  cumbrous  splendour, 
and  the  merry  laugh  of  the  young  and  happy  rang  far  through 
the  greenwood,  unrestrained  by  the  fear  of  reproof  or  ridicule.  Ex- 
clusiveism  and  all  its  concomitants  were  forgotten  during  tea-time. 

When  the  repast  was  finished,  the  sun  was  far  on  his  down 
ward  way,  and  the  esplanade  which  had  been  selected  as  the  ball 
room  was  well  shaded  by  a  clump  of  trees  on  its  western  border. 

4 


34  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

Thitherward  all  whoso  dancing  days  were  not  over,  turned  with 
hasty  steps,  and  Mr.  Kittering's  violin  might  be  heard  in  various 
squeaks  and  groans,  giving  token  of  the  onset.  But  we  listened 
in  vain  for  farther  demonstrations.  No  "  Morning  Star" — no 
k>  .Mony-Musk" — no  "  Poule,"  or  "  Trenise"  delighted  the  attend- 
unt  echoes.  Debate,  warm  and  rapid,  if  not.  loud  and  angry, 
seemed  to  leave  no  chance  for  sweeter  sounds.  The  morning's 
ii'ijil  between  Towson  and  Turner  had  broken  out  with  fresh  acri 
mony,  when  places  were  to  be  claimed  for  the  dance.  Hard 
things  were  said,  and  harder  ones  looked,  on  both  sides  ;  and  in 
conclusion,  Mr.  Towson  again  marched  magnanimously  oil'  the 
lii-ld,  and  contented  himself  with  the  sober  glory  of  reading  the 
Declaration  to  a  select  audience  ;  while  the  Commodore's  crew, 
victorious  as  before,  through  superior  coolness,  got  up  a  dance, 
and  had  the  violin  and  triangle  all  to  themselves. 

The  moon  rose  full  and  ruddy  before  we  were  packed  in  our 
wagons  to  return.  The  tinkling  of  bells  through  the  wood,  the 
ceaseless  note  of  the  whip-poor-will,  the  moaning  of  the  evening 
wind,  the  chill  of  a  heavy  dew,  all  fraught  with  associations  of 
repose,  gradually  quieted  the  livelier  members  of  the  party,  and 
put  the  duller  or  the  more  fatigued  fairly  asleep.  Some  of  the 
jokers  remained  untameable  for  awhile.  The  young  ladies  kept 
up  a  little  whispering  and  a  great  deal  of  giggling  among  them 
selves,  and  the  word  "  Commodore"  was  so  frequently  audible, 
that  one  might  have  thought  they  were  talking  of  the  last  war. 
Mr.  Turner  drove  so  closely  upon  the  vehicle  in  which  Mr.  Tow- 
son  occupied  the  back  seat,  as  to  bring  his  horses'  heads  unpleas 
antly  near  the  new  hat  of  that  gentleman. 

"  Hallo !  Turner  !  your  horses  will  be  biting  me  next !"  said 
Mr.  Towson,  rather  querulously. 

"  Don't  be  afraid  ;  they  don't  like  such  lean  meat." 

"  I  should  think  by  their  looks  they'd  be  glad  of  any  thing  to 
eat!"  said  Towson. 

"  Oh !  you  mus'n't  judge  them  by  yourself,"  replied  Turner, 
coolly  ;  "they  get  plenty  to  eat,  every  day." 

Even  this  sharp  shooting  subsided  after  a  while,  and  before  we 
alighted,  unbroken  silence  had  settled  upon  the  entire  cortege. 
But  the  pic-nic  afforded  conversation  for  a  month,  and  every  body 
agreed  in  thinking  we  had  had  a  charming  "  Independence." 


LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY.  35 


LOVE  .».  ARISTOCRACY. 


THE  great  ones  of  the  earth  might  learn  many  a  lesson  from 
the  little.  What  has  a  certain  dignity  on  a  comparatively  large 
scale,  is  so  simply  laughable  when  it  is  seen  in  miniature,  (and, 
unlike  most  other  things,  perhaps,  its  real  features  are  better  dis 
tinguished  in  the  small),  that  it  must  be  wholesome  to  observe 
how  what  we  love  appears  in  those  whom  we  do  not  admire. 
The  monkey  and  the  magpie  are  imitators ;  and  when  the  one 
makes  a  thousand  superfluous  bows  and  grimaces,  and  the  other 
hoards  what  can  be  of  no  possible  use  to  him,  we  may,  even  in 
those,  see  a  far  off  reflex  of  certain  things  prevalent  among  our 
selves.  Next  in  order  come  little  children  ;  and  the  boy  will 
put  a  napkin  about  his  neck  for  a  cravat,  and  the  girl  supply  her 
ideal  of  a  veil  by  pinning  a  pocket  handkerchief  to  her  bonnet, 
while  we  laugh  at  the  self-deception,  and  fancy  that  we  value 
only  realities.  But  what  affords  us  most  amusement,  is  the  awk 
ward  attempt  of  the  rustic,  to  copy  the  airs  and  graces  which  have 
caught  his  fancy  as  he  saw  them  exhibited  in  town  ;  or,  still 
more  naturally,  those  which  have  been  displayed  on  purpose  to 
dazzle  him,  during  the  stay  of  some  "  mould  of  fashion"  in  the 
country.  How  exquisitely  funny  are  his  efforts  and  their  failure! 
How  the  true  hugs  himself  in  full  belief  that  the  gulf  between 
himself  and  the  pseudo  is  impassable!  Little  dreams  he  that  his 
own  ill-directed  longings  after  the  distingue  in  air  or  in  position 
seem  to  some  more  fortunate  individual  as  far  from  being  accom 
plished  as  those  of  the  rustic  to  himself,  while  both,  perhaps,  owe 
more  to  the  tailor  and  milliner  than  to  any  more  dignified  source. 

The  country  imitates  the  town,  most  sadly ;  and  it  is  really 
melancholy,  to  one  who  loves  his  kind,  to  see  how  obstinately 
people  will  throw  away  real  comforts  and  advantages  in  the  vain 


36  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

chase  of  what  docs  not  belong  to  solitude  and  freedom.  The  re 
straints  necessary  to  city  life  are  there  compensated  by  many 
advantages  resulting  from  close  contact  with  others  ;  while  in 
the  country  those  restraints  are  simply  odious,  curtailing  the  real 
advantages  of  the  position,  yet  entirely  incapable  of  substituting 
those  which  belong  to  the  city. 

Real  refinement  is  as  possible  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other. 
Would  it  were  more  heartily  sought  in  both  ! 


IN  the  palmy  days  of  alchemy,  when  the  nature  and  powers 
of  occult  and  intangible  agents  were  deemed  worthy  the  study  of 
princes,  the  art  of  sealing  hermetically  was  an  essential  one  ; 
since  many  a  precious  elixir  would  necessarily  become  unman 
ageable  and  useless  if  allowed  to  wander  in  the  common  air. 
This  art  seems  now  to  be  among  the  lost,  in  spite  of  the  anxious 
efforts  of  cunning  projectors  ;  and  at  the  present  time  a  subtle 
essence,  more  volatile  than  the  elixir  of  life — more  valuable  than 
the  philosopher's  stone — an  invisible  and  imponderable  but  most 
real  agent,  long  bottled  up  for  the  enjoyment  of  a  privileged  few, 
has  burst  its  bounds  and  become  part  of  our  daily  atmosphere. 
Some  mighty  sages  still  contrive  to  retain  within  their  own  keep 
ing  important  portions  of  this  treasure;  but  there  are  regions  of 
the  earth  where  it  is  open  to  all,  and,  in  the  opinion  of  the  exclu 
sive,  sadly  desecrated  by  having  become  an  object  of  pursuit  to 
the  vulgar.  Where  it  is  still  under  a  degree  of  control,  the  seal 
of  Hermes  is  variously  represented.  In  Russia,  the  supreme 
will  of  the  Autocrat  regulates  the  distribution  of  the  "  airy 
good  :"  in  other  parts  of  the  Continent,  ancient  prescription  has 
still  the  power  to  keep  it  within  its  due  reservoirs.  In  France, 
its  uses  and  advantages  have  been  publicly  denied  and  repudia 
ted  ;  yet  it  is  said  that  practically  every  body  stands  open-mouth 
ed  where  it  is  known  to  be  floating  in  the  air,  hoping  to  inhale  as 
much  as  possible  without  the  odium  of  seeming  to  grasp  at  what 
has  been  decided  to  be  worthless.  In  England  we  are  told  that 
the  precious  fluid  is  still  kept  with  great  solicitude  in  a  dingy  re- 
ceptacle  called  Almack's,  watched  ever  by  certain  priestesses, 
who  urc  self-consecrated  to  an  attendance  more  onerous  than  that 


LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY.  37 

required  for  maintaining  the  Vestal  fire,  and  who  yet  receive  nei 
ther  respect  nor  gratitude  for  their  pains.  Indeed,  the  fine  spirit 
has  become  so  much  diffused  in  England  that  it  reminds  us  of  the 
riddle  of  Mother  Goose — 

A  house-full,  a  hole-full, 
But  can't  catch  a  bowl-full. 

If  such  efforts  in  England  amuse  us,  what  shall  we  say  of  the 
agonized  pursuit  every  where  observable  in  our  own  country  ? 
We  have  denounced  the  fascinating  gas  as  poisonous — we  have 
staked  our  very  existence  upon  excluding  it  from  the  land,  yet  it 
is  the  breath  of  our  nostrils — the  soul  of  our  being — the  one 
thing  needful — for  which  we  are  willing  to  expend  mind,  body, 
and  estate.  We  exclaim  against  its  operations  in  other  lands, 
but  it  is  the  purchaser  decrying  to  others  the  treasure  he  would 
appropriate  to  himself.  We  take  much  credit  to  ourselves  for 
having  renounced  what  all  the  rest  of  the  world  were  pursuing, 
but  our  practice  is  like  that  of  the  toper  who  had  forsworn  drink, 
yet  afterward  perceiving  the  contents  of  a  brother  sinner's  bottle 
to  be  spilt,  could  not  forbear  falling  on  his  knees  to  drink  the  li 
quor  from  the  frozen  hoof-prints  in  the  road  •  or  that  other  votary 
of  indulgence,  who,  having  once  had  the  courage  to  pass  a 
taverp,  afterward  turned  back  that  he  might  "  treat  resolution.''" 
We  have  satisfied  our  consciences  by  theory  ;  we  feel  no  com 
punction  in  making  our  practice  just  like  that  of  the  rest  of  the 
world. 

This  is  true  of  the  country  generally ;  but  it  is  nowhere  so 
strikingly  evident  as  in  these  remote  regions  which  the  noise  of 
the  great  world  reaches  but  at  the  rebound — as  it  were  in  faint 
echoes  ;  and  these  very  echoes  changed  from  their  original,  as 
Paddy  asserts  of  those  of  the  Lake  of  Killarney.  It  would 
seem  that  our  elixir  vita — a  strange  anomaly — becomes  stronger 
by  dilution.  Its  power  of  fascination,  at  least,  increases  as  it  re 
cedes  from  the  fountain  head.  The  Russian  noble  may  refuse  to 
let  his  daughter  smile  upon  a  suitor  whose  breast  is  not  covered 
with  orders;  the  German  dignitary  may  insist  on  sixteen  quarter- 
ings  ;  the  well-born  Englishman  may  sigh  to  be  admitted  into  a 
coterie  not  half  as  respectable  or  as  elegant  as  the  one  to  which 


38  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

he  belongs — all  this  is  consistent  enough  ;  but  we  must  laugh 
when  we  see  the  managers  of  a  city  ball  admit  the  daughters  of 
wholesale  merchants,  while  they  exclude  the  families  of  mer. 
chants  who  sell  at  retail /  and  still  more  when  we  come  to  tha 
"new  country"  and  observe  that  Mrs.  Penniman,  who  takes  in 
sewing,  utterly  refuses  to  associate  with  her  neighbour  Mrs. 
Clapp,  because  she  goes  out  sewing  by  the  day;  and  that  our 
friend  Mr.  Diggins,  being  raised  a  step  in  the  world  by  the  last 
election,  signs  all  his  letters  of  friendship,  "  D.  Diggins,  Sheriff." 

There  is  Persis  Allen,  the  best  and  the  prettiest  girl  to  be 
found  within  a  wide  belt  of  forest,  must  be  quite  neglected  by  the 
leaders  of  the  Ion  among  us,  because  she  goes  out  to  spin,  in  order 
to  help  her  "  unlucky"  father.  Not  that  spinning  is  in  itself  con 
sidered  vulgar — far  from  it !  Flocks  are  but  newly  introduced 
among  us,  and  all  that  relates  to  them  is  in  high  vogue ;  but  go 
ing  out  !  there  is  the  rub  !  Persis  might  have  lounged  about  at 
home,  with  her  hair  uncombed  and  her  shoes  down  at  heel,  only 
"  helping"  some  neighbour  occasionally  for  a  short  time  to  earn 
a  new  dress, — without  losing  caste.  But  to  engage  herself  as  a 
regular  drudge,  to  spin  day  after  day  in  old  Mr.  Hicks'  great 
upper  chamber  all  alone,  and  never  have  time  or  finery  to  go  to  a 
ball  or  a  training — she  must  be  a  poor,  mean-spirited  creature, 
not  fit  to  associate  with  "  genteel"  people. 

The  father  of  Persis  is  a  blacksmith,  and  an  honest  and  worthy 
man,  but  he  is  one  of  those  who  are  described  in  the  country  as 
having  "  such  bad  luck  !"  When  he  first  came  into  the  wilds,  he 
put  a  sum  of  money  that  constituted  his  all,  in  a  handkerchief 
about  his  head,  and  then  swam  over  a  deep  and  rapid  river, 
because  he  was  too  intent  on  pursuing  his  journey  to  await  the 
return  of  a  boat  which  had  just  left  the  shore.  He  saved 
his  hour,  but  lost  the  price  of  his  land  ;  and  so  was  obliged  to 
run  in  debt  for  a  beginning.  During  the  haying  of  his  first  west 
ern  summer  he  was  too  ardent  in  his  endeavours  to  retrieve  his 
loss  to  allow  himself  a  long  rest  at  noon,  as  the  other  mowers 
did  ;  and  the  consequence  was  an  attack  of  fever  which  put  him 
still  further  back  in  the  world.  Once  more  at  work,  and  no  less 
determined  than  before,  he  employed  his  leisure  time  in  assisting 
the  neighbours  in  the  heavy  and  dangerous  business  of  "  logging  ;" 


LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY.  39 

and  once  more  "unlucky,"  he  attempted  to  stop  by  his  single  arm 
a  log  which  threatened  to  roll  down  a  slope,  and  the  next  moment 
he  lay  helpless  with  a  dislocated  shoulder  and  a  hand  so  mash 
ed  that  it  was  long  doubtful  whether  it  would  ever  regain  its 
powers. 

All  through  these  disasters  his  faithful  help-meet  struggled  on, 
enfeebled  by  ague,  and  worn  with  nursing  and  watching  and 
pitying  her  husband.  Early  and  late — out  of  doors  and  within — 
she  was  at  work,  endeavouring  to  preserve  a  remnant  from  the 
general  wreck,  aided  and  cheered  by  her  eldest  daughter,  who, 
like  many  children  so  situated,  became  prematurely  thoughtful 
and  laborious,  and  seemed  never  to  have  known  the  careless  joy- 
ousness  of  childhood.  At  length  Mrs.  Allen  took  a  heavy  cold 
in  searching  all  the  evening  for  her  cow,  through  grass  and  bushes 
dripping  with  dew,  and  she  was  seized  with  a  rheumatism  which 
made  a  cripple  of  her,  just  as  her  husband  was  able  to  go  to  his 
forge  again.  So  our  pretty  Persis  seemed,  as  I  have  said,  born 
the  "  predestined  child  of  care,"  but  she  held  the  blessed  place  of 
comforter,  and  that  consciousness  can  throw  somewhat  of  an 
angelic  radiance  over  even  the  face  of  care.  She  looked  neither 
pale  nor  sad,  though  she  was  seldom  smiling  ;  and  from  the  habit 
of  constant  effort  and  solicitude  at  home,  she  seemed,  when  away 
and  among  young  people,  as  if  she  hardly  knew  what  to  do  with 
herself.  But  in  old  Mr.  Hicks'  spinning-room  she  was  in  her 
element ;  the  great  unfurnished  chamber  is  cool  and  shady,  and 
across  its  ample  floor  Persis  has  paced  back  and  forth,  at  her  light 
labour,  till  she  has  acquired  an  elastic  grace  of  motion  which 
dancing-masters  often  try  in  vain  to  teach.  Indeed,  I  fancy  that 
few  of  my  fair  readers  know  the  real  advantages  of  a  thorough 
acquaintance  with  the  spinning-wheel ;  the  expanded  chest,  the 
well  developed  bust,  the  firm,  springing  step  which  belong  to  this 
healthiest  and  most  graceful  of  all  in-door  employments.  And 
let  me  whisper  to  some  of  my  pretty,  mincing,  pit-a-pat  friends, 
that  an  easy  and  elastic  step  is  no  trifling  point  in  the  estimation 
of  those  who  know  what  real  elegance  is,  independently  of  stupid 
fashions.  Many  a  young  lady  can  manage  the  curve  of  the  wrist 
prescribed  by  the  French  prints,  and  let  her  shoulders  fall  so  low 
that  one  can  hardly  help  trembling  for  the  consequences,  yet  her 


WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

walk,  after  all,  needs  all  the  charitable  shadow  afforded  by  long 
dresses.  But  we  must  not  indulge  in  impertinent  digressions. 

Spinning  differs  from  other  feminine  labours,  inasmuch  as  its 
profits  are  dependent  on  the  superior  skill  or  industry  of  the  spin 
ner.  Let  a  poor  girl  sew  ever  so  steadily,  she  can  earn  but  little 
addition  to  her  miserable  per  diem  ;  but  in  spinning  there  is,  by  an 
cient  custom,  a  measure  to  the  day's  work  ;  and  a  good  hand  may 
by  extra  exertion  accomplish  this  t\vice  in  a  June  day.  So  poor 
Persis  worked  incessantly  when  she  could  be  spared  from  home, 
encouraged  by  the  thought  that  all  she  could  accomplish  over  and 
above  her  "  run  and  a  half "  was  so  much  clear  gain.  A  gain 
in  home  comforts,  sweet  Persis  !  but  a  terrible  loss  elsewhere. 

The  loss  of  caste  was,  however,  less  an  evil  to  the  Aliens, 
because  their  home  troubles  had  hitherto  prevented  their  mingling 
much  with  the  people  about  them,  and  so,  they  had  not  yet  fully 
adopted  the  public  sentiment.  But  they  learned  to  know  all  about 
it  in  time. 

There  is  one  white  and  green  house  in  the  village,  and  that, 
where  paint  is  still  so  rare,  is  by  good  right  the  Palazzo  Pitti  of 
our  bounds.  It  is  shown  to  the  passing  traveller  as  a  proof  of  the 
civilization  of  the  country,  and  elicits  not  a  few  remarks  from  the 
fanners  who  pass  it  slowly  in  their  huge  wagons.  It  is  worth 
looking  at,  too,  for  even  its  outer  decorations  are  a  masterpiece 
of  taste.  The  siding  is  plain  white  to  be  sure  ;  but  the  frames 
of  doors  and  windows,  the  cornices,  the  "  corner-boards"  and  the 
piazza  railing  are  all  bright  green.  The  sashes  are  in  black — 
rather  prison-like  but  vastly  "genteel" — and  the  front  door  is  in 
an  elaborate  mahogany  style,  with  more  "  curly-wurlies"  than 
usual.  Within  doors,  a  taste  no  less  gorgeous  is  evident,  for  the 
wood-work  is  all  of  the  brightest  blue — probably  in  imitation  of 
lapis-lazuli. 

In  this  favoured  and  much-envied  dwelling  resides  a  lady  who 
is  considered  by  the  public  in  general,  and  herself  in  particular, 
as  the  very  cream  of  our  aristocracy. 

Mrs.  Burnet  is  a  fair  and  plump  dame,  whose  age  can  only  be 
guessed  by  considering  a  grown-up  son.  Not  a  wrinkle  mars 
her  smooth  brow  ;  not  a  gray  hair  mingles  with  the  smooth  brown 
tresses  that  are  laid  so  demurely  on  either  temple.  Her  coun- 


LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY.  41 

tenance  wears  a  tixed  smile,  and  her  words  are  measured  by  the 
strictest  rule  of  propriety  ;  and  the  tones  which  convey  them  to 
the  ear  are  of  so  silvery  a  softness  that  one  can  hardly  think  the 
most  yielding  of  all  substances  could  melt  between  those  correct 
lips.  (This  paraphrase  is  the  result  of  much  laborious  thought.) 
But  in  the  full  brown  eye  above  them  there  lurks — what  shall  we 
call  it  ? — to  say  the  least,  a  latent  power  which  is  felt  through  all 
those  silvery  tones,  and  in  spite  of  all  that  winning  softness.  The 
initiated  are  exceedingly  careful  how  they  rouse  this  sleeping 
power  ;  for  in  those  singular  tones — to  convey  which  to  the  reader 
would  require  music-paper  and  some  skill  at  annotation — things 
are  sometimes  said  which  other  people  might  say  passionately  or 
sharply,  but  which  Mrs.  Burnet  knows  how  to  make  the  more 
bitter  by  sweetness. 

This  lady's  household  consisted  usually  of  only  two  members 
beside  herself — a  serving-maid  with  a  flat  white  face  and  a  threat 
ening  beard — for  Mrs.  Burnet  had  an  instinctive  dislike  of  youth 
and  beauty — and  a  young  man  toward  whom  nature  had  been  more 
bounteous,  but  whom  fortune  had  so  neglected  that  he  was  fain  to 
"  do  chores"  for  his  board  at  Mrs.  Burnet 's,  while  he  picked  a 
very  scanty  education  out  of  the  village  school.  This  poor  youth, 
Cyprian  Amory,  was  the  nephew  of  the  great  lady,  but  only  the 
gloom  of  her  glory  fell  on  him  ;  for  his  mother  had  made  an 
imprudent  marriage,  and  her  orphan  boy  was  a  heavy  burthen  to 
Mrs.  Burnet's  pride.  She  could  not  quite  make  an  outcast  of  her 
sister's  son,  but  she  revenged  the  mortification  which  his  poverty 
occasioned  her,  by  rendering  his  situation  as  odious  as  possible; 
taking  care  always  to  represent  him  as  an  object  of  charity, 
although  his  services  were  such  as  would  have  earned  ungrudged 
bread  any  where  else.  Cyprian  was  of  a  mild  and  quiet  temper, 
and  being  unfitted  by  delicate  health  for  the  labour  of  farming, 
he  was  intent  on  preparing  himself  for  that  poorest  of  all  drudgery, 
the  teaching  of  a  district  school.  So  he  bore  all  in  a  silence 
which  his  aunt  ascribed  to  stupidity,  but  which  a  few  friends  that 
he  loved,  and  whose  love  consoled  him,  considered  the  result  of  a 
patience  and  resignation  almost  saintly. 

Besides  Cyprian  and  the  flat-faced  serving-maid,  Mrs.  Burnet's 


42  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 

family  boasted  yet  one  member  more — her  only  son  and  heir,  of 
whom  more,  presently. 

Mrs.  Burnet's  establishment  was  at  no  great  distance  from  the 
humble  dwelling  of  William  Allen  ;  indeed  the  two  gardens 
joined  at  their  farther  extremity.  And  at  that  corner  the  wide 
difference  between  the  two  was  not  so  evident,  for  the  fruit-trees 
hid  the  splendid  white  and  green  mansion,  while  the  roses  and 
lilies  which  adorned  Mr.  Allen's  garden  had  evidently  never 
heard  of  our  aristocracy,  since  they  bloomed  with  a  provoking 
splendour  which  Mrs.  Burnet's  did  not  always  exhibit.  That 
lady's  general  plan  was  so  thrifty,  that  her  grounds  were  largely 
devoted  to  corn  and  potatoes ;  and  she  did  not  remember  to  pay 
much  attention  to  flowers,  unless  she  longed  for  their  decorative 
powers  on  some  great  occasion. 

Such  an  occasion  had  arrived  ;  for  George  Burnet  had  just  come 
home  after  finishing  what  he  called  his  "  law  studies  ;"  studies 
which  we  rather  think  were  comprised  in  six  months'  "  sharp 
practice,"  as  clerk  to  a  gentleman  who  had  quitted  the  shoe 
maker's  bench  for  the  law,  on  the  supposition  that  the  art  of  pet 
tifogging  would  prove  a  stepping-stone  to  a  bench  of  more  dignity. 
This  gentleman's  neophyte,  Mr.  George  Burnet,  was  such  a  youth 
as  the  only  son  of  a  doting  mother  is  apt  to  be — wilful,  conceited 
and  very  hard  to  please  ;  in  short,  not  voted  particularly  agree 
able  for  any  qualities  of  his  own,  but  much  reverenced  as  the 
heir-presumptive  of  the  white  and  green  house,  and  also  on 
account  of  his  aristocratic  pretensions — his  father  having  once 
been  elected  to  the  legislature.  He  was  fully  sensible  of  his 
advantages,  and  not  a  little  apt  to  boast  of  his  expectations ;  was 
good-natured  when  he  was  pleased,  arid  very  kind  where  he  took 
a  fancy — in  short,  one  of  those  people  who  intend  well,  or  at 
least  intend  no  ill,  but  are  never  to  be  depended  on  for  a  day. 

Mr.  George  Burnet  came  home  in  high  spirits,  determined  U 
enjoy  to  the  uttermost  the  interval  between  the  finish  of  his  prepa 
ration  and  the  opening  of  sharp  practice  on  his  own  account.  II& 
was  extravagantly  fond  of  dancing,  and  his  mother  had  always 
promised  him  a  grand  party  when  he  should  have  got  through  his 
studies,  on  the  express  condition,  however,  that  he  was  to  return 
immediately  to  business,  and  not  stay  to  hunt  and  fish  and  sere- 


LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY.  43 

nade  about  the  neighbourhood.  George  found  it  easy  to  promise, 
and  the  party  was  now  to  come  ofF. 

The  preparations  for  this  great  event  had  for  some  time  been 
foreshadowed  in  the  active  brain  of  Mrs.  Burnet ;  and  George's 
"  freedom  suit"  was  duly  bespoken,  and  two  violins  secured, 
long  before  the  arrival  of  the  graduate.  But,  as  the  appointed 
day  drew  nigh,  who  shall  tell  of  the  hopes  and  fears,  the  consul 
tations  and  the  arguments,  which  were  expended  on  and  over  the 
list  of  favoured  guests.  Enough  to  say  that  it  was  almost  the 
ditto  of  those  familiar  to  the  town-bred  getters-up  of  splendid  hos 
pitality,  (!)  and  that  the  principle  of  the  whole  thing  was  precisely 
the  same,  though  set  forth  and  put  in  practice  in  homelier  guise. 
Who  will  do  to  invite  ?  Who  may  be  left  out  ?  Who  will  look 
best  ?  Whose  presence  will  reflect  most  honour  on  the  enter 
tainers  ?  Whose  enmity  will  be  least  formidable  among  those 
who  ought  to  be  excluded  on  account  of  want  of  caste,  or  want  of 
savoirfaire  ?  George  Burnet  and  his  lady  mother  found  it  hard 
to  agree  in  their  estimate  of  the  guests  ;  George  insisting  upon 
all  the  pretty  girls,  and  these,  for  the  most  part,  portionless  belles, 
being  the  last  to  be  selected  by  Mrs.  Burnet. 

"  Mary  Stevens,"  said  George. 

"  Poh  !     She  goes  out  sewing !"  said  Mrs.  Burnet. 

"  I  don't  care  for  that,"  said  the  dutiful  son,  "  she  has  rosy 
cheeks,  and  I'll  have  her." 

"  There's  Mary  Drinkwater,  I  shall  ask,  of  course,"  observed 
Mrs.  Burnet. 

"  Squint-eyed  !"  said  George. 

"  No  matter  for  that,"  was  the  reply,  "  she's  got  a  farm  of  her 
own.  I  hope  you'll  be  very  civil  to  her." 

"  Mother,"  said  George  Burnet,  "  I  wouldn't  marry  Polly 
Drinkwater  if  there  wasn't  another  girl  in  the  world  !" 

"  I  haven't  asked  you  to  marry  her  ;  though,  for  that  matter, 
it  is  just  as  easy  to  love  a  rich  girl  as  a  poor  one,"  said  Mrs. 
Burnet.  "  But,  George,  it  is  high  time  for  you  to  have  done  with 
nonsense,  and  behave  like  a  man.  Mary  Drinkwater  is,  after 
all—" 

"Hush!  mother,"  said  George,  politely  laying  his  hand  on  his 


44  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

mamma's  mouth  ;  "  no  use  talking — let's  go  on  with  the  party. 
There's  Jane  Lawton  is  a  nice  girl." 

"  But  her  mother's  a  fright,"  said  Mrs.  Burnet. 

"  Leave  her  out,  then,"  said  George. 

"  No,  no  ;  if  you  ask  Jane,  we  must  have  the  old  folks." 

"  Lump  'em,  then,"  said  George  ;  "  and  who  has  Phebe  Penni- 
man  got  tacked  to  her  ?" 

"  Nobody,  thank  fortune  !"  said  his  mother  ;  "  her  old  lame 
grandmother  can't  go  out ;  but  Phebe  '11  come  in  a  shilling 
calico." 

"  I  don't  care  what  she  comes  in,"  said  the  youth,  "  if  she  only 
brings  those  pretty  bright  eyes  of  hers  with  her  ;  and  Phebe's  a 
good  hearty  girl,  too ;  she  can  dance  all  night.  But  who  was 
that  splendid  looking  girl  that  was  with  her  this  morning  ?  By 
George !  I  never  saw  such  a  step  !" 

"  That  was  Persis  Allen,"  said  Mrs.  Burnet ;  "  a  new  family 
that  moved  in  after  you  went  away.  But  I  will  not  have  her,  so 
that's  settled  !  She's  as  proud  as  a  peacock,  for  all  she  goes  out 
to  spin  by  the  day  at  old  Hicks's.  I  won't  have  her,  though  I 
long  for  some  of  those  lilies  to  dress  the  supper-table  with.  I 
can't  get  the  lilies  without  asking  her,  but  I'd  rather  go  without." 

"  But  she's  a  screamer  of  a  girl,"  persisted  Master  George ; 
"  I'd  rather  have  her  than  all  the  rest." 

"  But  you  won't  have  her,  though,"  said  Mrs.  Burnet ;  and 
George,  seeing  her  so  determined,  let  the  matter  drop,  a  sure  sign 
that  he  was  determined,  too. 

But  all  his  strategy  was  vain.  No  surprise,  no  coaxing,  no 
pouting,  had  the  least  effect  upon  Mrs.  Burnet.  The  Allen  fami 
ly  had  pertinaciously  omitted  all  that  courting  which,  we  regret 
to  say,  follows  wealth  and  power  even  to  the  wilds  ;  and  they  had, 
moreover,  found  occasion,  more  than  once,  to  resent  certain  im 
pertinences  which  Mrs.  Burnet  was  in  the  habit  of  offering  to  her 
poorer  neighbours.  So  the  lady  was  inexorable;  and, 'strong  in 
lu>r  smooth  bitterness,  she  carried  her  point.  Persis  was  left  out. 

But,  on  the  eve  of  the  great  day,  when  the  preparations  were 
in  great  forwardness,  those  dazzling  lilies  were  again  mentioned ; 
and  George,  who  was  never  much  hampered  by  the  restraints  of 
good  breeding,  declared  he  would  get  the  lilies  without  inviting  the 


LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY.  45 

damsel,  and,  on  this  glorious  thought  intent,  he  climbed  the  interve 
ning  fence,  by  moonlight,  and  made  directly  for  the  spot  rendered 
lovely  by  the  choicest  flowers  of  our  poor  Persis.  This  was  the 
neighbourhood  of  a  little  arbour,  over  the  rustic  framework  of 
which  a  luxuriant  wild-grape  had  been  trained,  to  shade  a  soft 
bank  covered  with  abundant  mosses.  The  overpowering  perfume 
of  the  lilies,  called  forth  in  double  measure  by  the  dew,  guided 
our  adventurer  directly  to  their  place,  even  before  they  became 
visible  in  the  moonlight ;  and  he  was  about  to  rifle  the  bed,  when 
his  eye  was  caught  by  as  white  an  object  in  the  arbour.  George's 
conscience  whispered  that  it  was  a  "  sperrit;"  but,  after  the  first 
moment's  start,  he  could  not  resist  venturing  a  little  nearer ;  and 
there  was  Persis  Allen,  fast  asleep  on  her  mossy  couch,  her  fair 
forehead  upward  toward  the  sky,  a  book  still  open  on  her  lap,  and 
a  lily  fallen  at  her  feet,  fit  emblem  of  her  own  purity  and  beauty. 

Mr.  George  Burnet  stood  entranced.  He  had  seen  no  such 
personification  of  beauty  and  romance  in  the  whole  course  of  his 
law-studies.  He  ventured  nearer, — nearer  still — until  he  could 
distinguish  the  lightest  curl  waved  by  the  evening  breeze,  and 
even  the  satin  smoothness  of  the  skin  beneath.  But  while  he 
still  gazed,  the  sleeping  beauty  stirred — opened  her  eyes — uttered 
a  slight  exclamation,  as  if  not  quite  sure  that  what  she  saw  was 
real — and  our  gallant  youth  darted  off,  as  much  frightened  as  if 
the  opening  of  those  eyes  had  threatened  literal  instead  of  only 
figurative  death.  The  young  girl  did  not  scream,  although  she 
ought,  in  propriety,  to  have  done  so.  She  had  no  presentiment 
that  she  was  to  be  made  a  heroine  of;  and,  in  truth,  men  of  all 
sorts  are  too  plenty,  and  too  unceremonious,  at  the  West,  to  ex 
cite  much  alarm.  So,  concluding  that  the  intruder  had  been  only 
some  neighbouring  marauder  in  search  of  her  father's  fine  rasp 
berries,  she  picked  up  her  bonnet,  and  walked  quietly  into  the 
house. 

Meanwhile,  our  scared  swain  had  reached  his  own  maternal 
mansion;  and,  coming  empty-handed,  was  closely  questioned, 
and  not  a  little  laughed  at  when  he  recounted  the  failure  of  his 
adventure. 

"  But,  hold  on  a  little  till  I  tell  ye  !"  interposed  Master  George: 
"  If  she  hadn't  been  there  I'd  have  got  'em  easy  enough ;  but  the 


46  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

sight  of  such  a  white  tiling,  you  know,  right  in  the  moonlight, 
made  my  heart  beat  so  that  1  could  hardly  see.  But,  by  George  ! 
what  a  girl  !  Mother  !  I  must  and  will  have  that  girl  at  my 
party,  and  so  there's  an  end  of  it." 

"  How  can  you  be  so  vulgar,  George  ?"  replied  his  mother. 

"  Vulgar  or  not,"  persisted  he,  "  if  she  don't  come,  1  don't ! 
I'll  go  and  spend  the  evening  with  her,  instead  of  those  dowdies." 

"  George,"  said  Mrs.  Burnet,  "you  always  were  an  obstinate 
boy,  but  I  was  in  hopes  you  had  more  sense  now." 

"So  I  have,"  said  the  dutiful  youth,  "  and  that's  the  reason  I 
want  my  own  way.  Come,  mother,  get  your  bonnet  and  shawl, 
and  let's  go  over  and  invite  that  pretty — what's  her  name  ?  and 
then  we'll  ask  her  for  the  flowers." 

And  George  at  length  carried  his  point,  and  dragged  his  mo 
ther  over  to  William  Allen's. 

"  Persis,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Burnet,  in  her  most  seducing  and 
mellifluent  tones,  as  soon  as  the  requisite  salutations  were  over, 
"  will  you  come  and  spend  the  evening  to-rnorrow  ?  We  shall 
have  a  number  of  young  people — " 

"  And  fiddles,"  interposed  George,  in  way  of  parenthesis. 

Persis  murmured  something  in  reply,  but  Mrs.  Burnet  pro 
ceeded  without  waiting  for  an  answer. 

"  And,  if  you  can't  come,  you  will  at  least  give  me  a  few  of 
your  beautiful  flowers  to  dress  my  supper-table.  I  must  have 
some  of  those  lilies.  You  have  so  many  that  I  am  sure  you  can 
spare  me  some." 

"  Oh  yes,  certainly,"  Persis  said  ;  "  you  shall  have  the  lilies 
in  welcome." 

"  But  you'll  come,"  said  George,  whose  eyes  had  devoured  the 
beautiful  face  with  no  measured  stare  all  this  time ;  "  you'll 
come,  won't  you  ?" 

"  I — I  don't  know — I'll  ask  mother,"  said  Persis. 

"  Well !  I'll  send  for  the  flowers  in  the  morning,"  said  Mrs. 
Burnet,  hurrying  away  quite  unceremoniously. 

George  was  very  reluctant  to  be  dragged  off  without  a  promise 
from  Persis.  but  he  was  obliged  to  be  content  with  the  advantage 
he  had  gained.  He  felt  that  the  tone  of  his  mother's  invitation 
had  not  been  what  it  should  be,  but  he  hoped  his  own  urgency 


LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY.  47 

had  supplied  all  deficiencies.  An  invitation  to  the  Palazzo  was 
not  likely  to  be  contemned  by  any  of  the  village  damsels.  We 
must  confess,  it  occasioned  no  little  flutter  in  the  innocent  heart 
of  Persis ;  but  she  was,  as  we  have  said,  prematurely  sober  and 
self-restrained,  and  sought  good  advice  before  she  ventured  to  de 
cide  on  a  point  so  important.  She  did  not  even  think  "  What 
shall  I  wear  ?"  perhaps  the  scantiness  of  her  wardrobe  saved  her 
the  trouble.  She  only  said  to  her  parents,  "  Had  I  better  go  ?" 

They  were  naturally  disposed  to  think  Persis  might  safely  fol 
low  her  own  inclination  in  the  matter ;  and  the  young  girl  had 
as  naturally  been  inclined  to  what  all  young  people  love.  But 
the  next  morning,  when  Persis  went  as  usual  to  her  spinning,  she 
mentioned  the  whole  affair  to  old  Mr.  Hicks  and  his  good  sister ; 
the  visit  of  the  evening  before,  the  hasty  tone  of  the  mother  as 
contrasted  with  the  urgency  of  the  son  ;  and  also,  for  we  must 
own  that  Persis,  like  many  a  simple  country  damsel,  had  a  quick 
perception  of  the  ludicrous — the  odd  way  Mrs.  Burnet  had  of 
coupling  her  request  for  the  lilies  so  closely  with  the  invitation  for 
the  evening. 

"  Just  like  her  !"  said  Aunt  Hetty,  "  she's  the  coldest-hearted- 
est  crittur  that  ever  spoke." 

"  She  is  a  proud,  unfeeling  woman,"  said  old  Mr.  Hicks,  "  and, 
if  you'll  take  my  advice,  my  dear,  you'll  keep  clear  of  the  Bur- 
nets  altogether.  George  is  always  crazy  after  some  pretty  face 
or  another,  and  it's  no  credit  to  a  young  girl  like  you  to  have  his 
acquaintance.  If  he  or  his  mother  should  meet  you  in  the  street, 
at  B ,  they  wouldn't  know  you  at  all.  Don't  go,  Persis." 

At  this  advice  from  the  plain-spoken  old  man,  Persis  blushed 
deeply,  and  the  vision  of  the  grand  party,  which  had  begun  to 
loom  large  in  her  imagination,  faded  away  almost  entirely.  She 
had  so  much  respect  for  farmer  Hicks,  who  was  known  as  the 
oldest  settler  and  universally  looked  up  to  by  the  neighbours,  that 
she  resolved  at  once  to  follow  his  advice,  and  decline  the  tempt 
ing  invitation.  Besides,  in  a  cooler  view,  an  instinctive  self-re 
spect  whispered  that  Mrs.  Burnet's  manner  was  any  thing  but 
what  it  should  have  been,  and  that  the  only  urgency  had  been  on 
the  part  of  the  young  man.  So  she  told  her  good  old  friend  that 
she  would  not  go  to  Mrs.  Burnet's. 


48  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

The  lilies  went,  however,  and  formed  the  crowning  decoration 
of  the  feast,  dividing  the  puhlic  eye  with  the  splendid  "  pediment" 
of  maccaroons  which  had  been  brought  with  great  care  and  so 
licitude  from  B .  The  entire  gentility  of  the  neighbouring 

village  was  collected.  There  was  the  lawyer's  lady,  and  the 
clergyman's  lady,  and  the  storekeeper's  lady,  all  drest  as  primly 
as  possible,  and  looking  as  solemn  as  the  occasion  required. 
Then,  there  was  Mrs.  Millbank,  the  tailor's  lady,  a  very  "  gen- 
teel"  woman,  and  she  wore  an  elegant  black  bombazine,  with 
pink  satin  bows  on  the  shoulders,  and  a  flounce  half  a  yard  deep. 
Mrs.  Ferine,  the  harness-maker's  lady,  was  in  plain  white,  but 
she  wore  a  scarf  of  rainbow  hues,  and  a  most  superb  and  tower 
ing  head-dress  of  black  feathers  and  pale  blue  roses.  Miss  Adri- 
ance,  the  school-ma'am,  was  invited,  because  she  was  "  genteel" 
and  wore"  spectacles,  though  her  calling  was  scarcely  the  thing 
for  a  select  party ;  and  she  honoured  the  occasion  by  appearing 
in  a  green  nerino,  and  a  mob-cap,  full  trimmed  with  yellow  rib 
bons.  But  \t  would  require  the  accuracy  of  a  court-circular  to 
describe  the  costume  of  every  star  that  twinkled  in  Mrs.  Burnet's 
parlour  on  that  distinguished  evening.  We  can  but  observe  that 
the  eyes  were  brighter  than  the  candles,  and  the  conversation 
much  less  blue  than  the  cerulean  mantelpiece.  The  very  beaux 
were  inspired,  and,  instead  of  sneaking  into  corners,  or  getting 
behind  the  door,  they  came  boldly  forward,  talked  and  laughed 
among  themselves,  and  looked  sideways  at  the  girls,  with  most 
unwonted  assurance. 

George,  arrayed  in  the  "  freedom  suit" — solemn  black,  of 
course,  as  became  his  profession — made  the  agreeable  to  his  male 
guests  after  the  most  approved  style — shaking  hands  heartily,  and 
asking  them  to  "take  something  to  drink."  But  the  festivities 
had  reached  no  great  height,  when  the  youthful  heir,  scanninr 
closely  the  tittering  circle,  missed  the  bright  mistress  of  the  lilies, 
and,  finding  or  making  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  his  mamma, 
asked  if  "  the  Allen  girl"  had  not  come. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  the  honey-voiced  Mrs.  Burnet,  "  I  dare 
say  she  couldn't  get  her  frock  washed  in  lime,  or  she  would  have 
been  here." 


LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY.  49 

As  the  lady  turned  away,  with  a  gentle  titter  at  her  own  wit, 
her  young  hopeful  vanished  by  the  nearest  door. 

"  Where's  your  girl  ?"  said  he  a  few  moments  after,  address 
ing  Mr.  Allen. 

"  Gone  to  bed,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

"  Why  !  isn't  she  coming  to  our  'us  ?" 

"  Not  this  night,  I  think,"  replied  her  father,  very  composedly 

or,  be  it  known,  that  the  ceremonies  of  acceptance  and  apology 

ire  not  in  vogue  among  us — every  body  exercising  his  democratic 

privilege  of  going  or  staying  away,  without  rendering  account  to 

any  one. 

'•'  Why !  that  beats  all  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  George,  in  consider- 
aUe  vexation.  "  Why  didn't  she  come  ?" 

"  Well — I  believe  she  didn't  want  to,"  said  Mr.  Allen. 

"  I  don't  believe  that,"  muttered  George,  and,  going  out  of  the 
door,  he  looked  up  at  the  only  upper  window. 

"  Halloo  !  Persis— I  say,  Persis  !" 

No  answer. 

"  Persis  Allen  ;  what's  the  matter  with  you  ?" 

Dead  silence  ;  and  poor  George,  casting  a  wrathful  look  at  tiie 
papa  quietiy  smoking  his  pipe  in  the  kitchen,  went  his  way  back 
to  the  party  t  resolving  to  pay  the  most  provoking  attention  to  Miss 
Drinkwater.  by  way  of  revenging  himself  on  Fate  and  Persis 
Allen. 

The  part,-  went  off  in  the  usual  style — that  is  to  say,  dull  and 
stiff  at  first,  Chattering  and  warm  secondly,  and  then,  after  due 
attention  to  the  vivers,  coming  to  an  uproarious  finale.  Mr. 
George,  early  excited  by  drinking  with  his  "  dear  five  hundred 
friends,"  more  or  less,  became  quite  stupid  before  the  company 
departed  ;  and,  when  the  last  shawl  had  left  the  entry-table,  and 
the  second  supply  of  tallow  candles  began  to  burn  low  in  the 
sockets,  Mrs.  Burnet  was  obliged  to  call  in  the  strong  arm  of 
Huldy  from  the  kitchen  to  get  Mr.  George  up  to  bed. 

The  next  day,  it  became  too  evident  that  the  freedom-party  had 
cost  Mr.  George  Burnet  a  violent  fever.  He  awoke  out  of  a  long 
sleep  with  an  agonizing  pain  in  his  head,  and  a  pulse  going  at 
railroad  speed.  Before  evening  medical  aid  had  been  summoned, 
heads  and  vials  shaken,  and  a  cot  put  into  George's  room  for  Mrs. 


50  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

Burnet,  and  a  smoked  ham  put  into  the  pot  for  the  "  watchers." 
(Watchers  are  always  expected  to  be  very  hungry.)  In  short,  it 
was  a  serious  case,  arid  excited  much  interest  with  the  two  Ga- 
lens  of  the  neighbourhood. 

"  Midnight ! — and  not  a  nose — "  from  one  end  of  the  village  to 
the  other — "  snored" — for  the  screams  and  ravings  of  the  unfor 
tunate  youth  freighted  the  weary  echoes. 

"  Persis  !  Persis  Allen  !  why  don't  she  come  ?"  rung  in  the 
night  air,  so  distinctly  that  the  owner  of  the  appellation  lay  trem 
bling  in  her  little  attic,  with  the  vague  dread  of  distress  and  im 
pending  disaster.  All  night  long  did  the  heart-rending  tones  of 
the  sufferer  keep  her  awako,  and  it  was  scarcely  daylight  when 
a  messenger  from  Mrs.  Burnet  knocked  loudly  at  her  father's 
door,  to  entreat  Persis  to  come  but  for  a  moment  to  George's  bed 
side,  hoping  that  the  sight  of  her  might  have  some  effect  in  sooth 
ing  his  irritation.  She  went,  though  trembling  and  almost  faint 
ing  with  fright  and  agitation,  never  doubting,  in  her  simplicity, 
whether  it  was  proper  for  her  to  comply  with  so  unusual  a  request. 
There  is  a  sort  of  sacred  reverence  for  the  sick  in  tho.se  regions, 
where  there  is  scarce  any  reverence  for  any  thing  else. 

The  moment  George's  delirious  brain  became  aware  of  the 
presence  of  the  pale  beauty,  he  would  have  sprung  from  his  bed 
but  for  strong  arms  that  held  him  down.  It  was  indeed  surpri 
sing  that  her  image  should  have  taken  so  firm  a  hold  on  his  mem 
ory  and  imagination  ;  but  it  soon  became  evident  that  nothing  but 
her  presence  would  soothe  his  more  than  "midsummer  madness." 
So  there  the  poor  girl  was  obliged  to  sit,  her  cold  hand  clasped  be 
tween  his  burning  palms,  and  his  wild  eyes  fixed  upon  her  face, 
hour  after  hour,  listening  to  his  raving  vows  that  she  and  she  only 
should  be  his  wife,  spite  of  his  mother  and — a  less  smooth-looking 
personage. 

We  are  not  to  suppose  that  Persis  was  unmoved  by  the  sound 
of  all  those  passionate  words.  Words  have  a  power  of  their  own, 
as  we  have  all  doubtless  experienced,  and  besides,  George  Burm-t 
was  rather  a  handsome  young  man,  and  the  certain  heir  of  a  still 
handsomer  property.  So  that  we  shall  not  pretend  that  his  pro- 
testations,  though  made  in  all  the  wildness  of  delirium,  fell  upon 
deaf  ears  or  a  stony  heart.  On  the  other  side  of  the  bed  stood 


LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY.  51 

Cyprian  Amory,  unwearied  in  his  attention  to  the  sick  man,  but 
watching  with  a  painful  anxiety  the  changes  in  the  pale  face  of 
Persis,  and  frequently  suggesting  something  which  might  tend  to 
quiet  George  and  relieve  her  unpleasant  situation.  At  length 
George's  ravings  grew  fainter,  his  grasp  gradually  slackened,  his 
eyes  closed,  and  he  fell  asleep,  murmuring  blessings  on  the  fair 
being  who  had  so  kindly  soothed  his  wretchedness.  Persis  was 
removed,  half  fainting,  and  it  was  not  until  some  hours'  rest  that 
she  was  able  to  return  home,  so  completely  had  her  nerves  been 
overwrought  by  this  distressing  scene.  Yet  Mrs.  Burnet  dismiss 
ed  her  without  the  slightest  acknowledgment  of  the  sacrifice  she 
had  made  to  humanity ;  evidently  rejoiced  to  get  rid  of  so  dan 
gerous  a  friend. 

But  there  was  further  trouble  in  store  for  the  politic  mamma. 
George's  delirium  subsided,  it  is  true,  but  his  memory  proved 
wonderfully  tenacious  of  the  subject  of  his  ravings.  As  he  gain 
ed  strength  his  natural  willfulness  showed  itself,  and  a  determi 
nation  to  make  good  all  he  had  said  to  Persis  was  but  too  appa 
rent.  The  violence  of  his  disease  was  not  of  long  duration,  but  it 
had  so  shattered  him  that  his  convalescence  was  slow;  and,  du 
ring  the  weeks  of  his  scarce  perceptible  amendment,  his  talk  was 
continually  of  his  fair  neighbour.  His  mother  would  not  stay  in 
the  room  to  listen  to  what  so  deeply  offended  her;  but  Cyprian 
was  always  there,  and  into  his  unwilling  ear  did  George  pour  all 
his  plans  for  the  future. 

"  We  shan't  live  here,  Cyp,"  he  would  say  ;  "  she's  too  splendid 
a  creature  for  the  woods,  and  beside,  mother  would  worry  her  life 
out.  Isn't  she  a  sweet  creature,  Cyp  ?  Stay — what  do  you  go 
away  for?  You  shall  be  my  clerk,  Cyp,  you  write  so  much  bit 
ter  than  I  do — you  shall  study  law  with  me — take  care  of  my 
business  whenever  I'm  away.  I  shall  be  sent  to  Congress  by  and 
bye,  and,  while  I'm  gone  to  Washington,  you'll  be  head  man  at 
home.  Only  help  me  to  persuade  my  mother.  Won't  she,  make 
a  figure  at  Washington  ?  Such  a  step!  and  how  she  carries  her 
head  !"  and  he  would  run  on  by  the  hour  after  this  fashion,  hold 
ing  Cyprian  fast  till  his  new  found  strength  would  be  entirely  ex 
hausted,  and  he  would  fall  asleep  only  to  wake  and  renew  the 
strain. 


52  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

Matters  could  not  long  go  on  thus.  It  never  entered  the  head 
of  either  mo  her  or  son  that  Persis  Allen  would  have  to  be  asked 
more  than  once  ;  and  Mrs.  Burnet  only  waited  her  son's  more 
complete  recovery  to  put  an  end  to  his  fine  dreams.  When  the 
time  came  for  the  execution  of  this  her  fixed  purpose,  there  was  a 
scene  indeed.  George  cried  and  swore  alternately,  while  his 
mother,  calm  as  usual,  with  her  lips  compressed  to  a  thready  thin 
ness,  and  that  unearthly  light  in  her  eye  which  malicious  eyes 
will  perversely  emit  when  their  owner  most  desires  to  seem  an- 
gelically  virtuous,  she  expressed  her  unalterable  determination  to 
disinherit  him  if  he  persisted  in  marrying  a  girl  who  earned  her 
living  by  spinning. 

This  was  a  tremendous  engine,  and  wielded  with  the  coolness 
so  peculiar  to  Mrs.  Burnet,  it  bore  with  terrible  force  upon  poor 
George,  who  had  been  brought  up  to  expect  a  fortune  which  was 
entirely  in  his  mother's  power.  But  opposition  only  contributed 
to  keep  alive  a  determination  which  would  otherwise  most  proba 
bly  have  shared  the  fate  of  many  others  which  George  had  made 
and  broken.  He  did  not  venture  to  defy  his  mother  openly,  for, 
in  his  eyes  as  well  as  hers,  the  possession  of  properly  was  all  that 
made  any  essential  difference  between  one  man  and  another.  But 
there  had  been  nothing  in  his  education  which  forbade  his  pursu 
ing  covertly  what  he  had  not  courage  to  defend  ;  and  Persis  was 
doomed  to  be  waylaid  on  all  occasions  by  her  impetuous  admirer, 
till  she  was  almost  ready  to  marry  him  to  get  rid  of  him. 

George  had  now  entirely  recovered,  and  his  mother  insisted  on 
his  returning  to  his  business  according  to  promise.  Cyprian  took 
charge  of  the  village  school,  and  the  white  and  green  house  pre 
sented  a  silent  and  very  haughty-looking  exterior — Mrs.  Burnet 
having  subsided  into  her  usual  aristocratic  grandeur,  and  not 
even  knowing  the  poor  spinning-girl  when  she  met  her.  Cyprian 
Amory,  it  is  true,  though  he  belonged  to  the  great  house,  was 
troubled  with  no  such  shortness  of  memory — indeed,  it  would 
have  been  fortunate  for  him  if  he  had,  poor  fellow !  for  why 
should  he  remember  Persis  ?  They  often  encountered  at  sunset, 
when  each  was  returning  from  the  day's  task  ;  and  it  was  perhaps 
from  an  idea  that  Persis'  own  youth  had  not  passed  without  its 
trials  and  struggles,  that  Cyprian  was  led  at  times  to  be  rather 


LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY.  53 

confidential  on  the  subject  of  his  condition  and  its  difficulties.  It 
was  thus  that  the  fair  spinning-girl  learned  that  the  only  chance 
to  which  Cyprian  looked  for  an  escape  from  the  horrors  of  a  dis 
trict-school,  was  George's  consenting  to  receive  him  as  a  clerk,  a 
destiny  not  in  itself  to  he  coveted,  yet  far  preferable  to  its  alter 
native.  Such  was  the  pity  and  sympathy  excited  in  the  gentle 
breast  of  Persis,  that  she  almost  wished  sometimes  that  she  had 
accepted  George,  since  she  might  then  have  been  of  so  much  ser 
vice  to  poor  Cyprian  ! 

But  the  time  came  when  Cyprian  no  longer  met  Persis,  us  he 
sauntered  along  the  road,  after  shutting  up  the  school-house. 
She  was  bound,  day  and  night  almost,  to  the  death- bed  of  her 
kind  old  friend,  farmer  Hicks,  whose  sister,  quite  infirm,  and  al 
most  imbecile,  depended  on  Persis  as  on  a  daughter.  Inured  as 
she  was  to  care  and  to  personal  sacrifice,  the  aid  of  Persis  about 
the  sick-bed  was  invaluable,  and  the  old  man,  with  his  dying 
breath,  blessed  her,  and  recommended  his  sister  to  her  kindness. 

After  he  was  gone,  and  his  will  came  to  be  opened,  it  was 
found  that  he  had  left  Persis  his  entire  property,  with  the  sole 
burthen  of  a  comfortable  support  for  the  aged  sister,  "  feeling," 
the  will  said,  "  that  she  could  not  be  in  better  hands.' 

Here  was  an  overturn  of  affairs  !  and,  at  first,  it  seemed  likely 
to  be  the  overturn  of  poor  Persis'  wits,  too ;  not  that  she  was  ela 
ted,  but  perplexed  and  embarrassed  in  the  extreme  by  the  sur 
prise,  and  by  the  sudden  weight  of  responsibility.  She  was  to 
live  in  her  own  house,  that  the  old  lady  might  not  be  subject  to 
the  pain  of  a  removal ;  and,  as  Persis'  younger  sister  was  now 
able  to  supply  in  part  her  place  at  home,  this  was  soon  arranged  ; 
but  other  matters  presented  more  formidable  difficulties. 

We  must  not  pretend  that  our  village  maiden  had  been  indif 
ferent  to  the  addresses  of  a  young  gentleman  who  was  considered 
by  the  entire  democracy  about  her  to  be  so  much  "  above"  her. 
She  had  a  kind  and  noble  heart,  but,  after  all,  she  was  human, 
and  subject  to  the  influence  of  caste,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us. 
George  Burnet,  a  young  "lawyer,"  the  beau  of  the  country,  and 
'heii  of  the  splendid  white  and  green  house  and  the  fine  farm  ap 
pended  to  it,  would  have  been  irresistible,  perhaps,  but  fora  some 
thing — an  unexplained,  troublesome  something,  which  presented 


54  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


itself  before  Persis'  mental  vision  whenever  she  had  time  to  think 
of  the  matter.  There  was  drawn,  by  some  magical  or  invisible 
power,  on  the  retina  of  her  mind's  eye,  a  pretty  rural  scene — a 
log-house,  plain  and  small,  shaded  with  trees  and  surrounded  with 
gay  flowers.  In  the  upper  chamber  of  this  humble  abode  was  a 
neatly  dressed  damsel  plying  the  great  wheel,  and  in  the  little 
garden  which  her  window  commanded,  was  a  tall,  slender  young 
man,  busily  tending  some  well-kept  rows  of  vegetables,  and  occa 
sionally  casting  a  glance  upward  at  the  window.  The  damsel 
at  the  wheel  was  Persis  herself,  the  youth  in  the  garden,  her 
friend,  Cyprian  Amory. 

This  pretty  picture  had  often  presented  itself  to  Persis,  while 
she  was  still  a  simple  spinning-girl,  and  it  stood  very  much  in  the 
way  of  George  Burnet's  interest.  And  yet,  if  Persis  could  only 
marry  George,  how  much  might  she  brighten  the  lot  of  her  friend, 
Cyprian.  George  would  take  Cyprian  into  his  office,  and,  once 
on  the  way,  Cyprian  might,  nay,  must,  rise  to  a  condition  in  life 
so  much  better  suited  to  a  mind  like  his.  A  farmer's  life  would 
never  do  for  that  delicate  frame,  and  a  school  in  the  country  is 
only  another  name  for  starvation,  and  not  reputable  starvation  ei 
ther.  It  was  such  considerations  as  these  that  had  caused  Persis 
sometimes  to  listen  to  George  Burnet,  and  try  to  make  up  her 
mind  to  like  him,  though  she  had  told  him  no  a  thousand  times. 

It  was  only  a  few  days  after  the  funeral  of  old  Mr.  Hicks,  that 
the  old  aunty  and  her  young  guardian  were  still  seated  at  the 
tea-table,  when  they  were  surprised  by  a  visit  from  Mrs.  Burnet. 
That  agreeable  lady  was  decked  in  her  sweetest  smiles,  and  paid 
her  compliments  of  condolence  in  the  choicest  phrase,  crowning 
all  by  hoping  that  as  Miss  Allen  must  be  quite  at  leisure  she 
should  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  often — very  often.  She 
was  so  fond  of  the  society  of  young  people  !  and  now  they  were 
to  be  such  near  neighbours,  she  hoped  Persis  would  be  "sociable." 

This  visit  was  followed  at  no  gr  at  distance  by  another,  with 
the  avowed  object  of  pleading  George's  cause,  the  match  being 
now  warmly  desired  by  the  devoted  mother.  She  had  understood, 
she  said,  that  there  had  been  an  attachment,  (she  did  not  say  a 
mutual  one,  though  her  manner  implied  it,)  but  Miss  Allon  must 
be  aware  that  nothing  could  be  more  imprudent  than  engagements 


LOVE  vs.  ARISTOCRACY.  55 

hastily  made,  and  without  proper  provision  for  the  future.  Now 
there  could  be  no  possible  objection  ;  and  she  hoped  her  dear 
Persis  would  not  object  to  an  early  day,  since  poor  George  would 
find  it  impossible  to  engage  in  business  until  his  mind  was  at 
rest. 

All  this  was  delivered  so  volubly  that  Persis  had  no  opportunity 
for  a  word,  but  even  while  Mrs.  Burnet  was  speaking,  her  mind 
had  been  unconsciously  applying  all  these  prudential  observations 
in  another  direction.  It  was  a  brilliant  thought,  truly,  and  it  was 
marvelous  that  it  had  not  suggested  itself  before — that  she  was  an 
heiress,  and  could  do  as  she  liked.  She  had  money  enough  for 
two,  and  Cyprian  could  hire  workmen,  and  oversee  the  farm  as 
old  Mr.  Hicks  had  done.  All  this  was  concluded  in  a  moment ; 
and,  as  a  finish  to  the  cogitation,  grown  worldly  wise  by  suffer 
ing,  she  considered  that  if  any  thing  should  yet  be  lacking,  she 
could  still  ply  the  wheel  as  before,  and  so  make  all  right. 

And,  when  Mrs.  Burnet  had  exhausted  all  her  eloquence,  and 
paused  for  a  reply,  she  got  only  a  plain  and  somewhat  absent  neg 
ative. 

Who  shall  give  the  faintest  idea  of  her  rage  ?  Who  paint  the 
gleam  of  that  eye,  or  the  sharp  thinness  of  the  compressed  lips  ? 
Bitter  sweet  was  she  at  parting,  but  Persis  was  so  occupied  with 
her  new  idea  that  she  felt  no  embarrassment  at  having  offended  the 
great  lady. 

But  how  to  put  her  plan  in  Cyprian's  head  ?  We  can  account 
for  what  follows  only  in  one  way — the  intensity  of  the  thought 
which  dwelt  on  him  for  so  long  a  time  must  have  drawn  him  to 
her  side ;  for  he  no  sooner  understood  that  Mrs.  Burnet  had  been 
to  see  Persis  than  he  found  himself  irresistibly  impelled  toward 
the  old  farm-house. 

And  there,  in  the  parlour,  by  the  great  western  window,  sat  Per 
sis  ;  her  head  leaning  on  her  hand,  her  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy, 
and  her  thoughts  so  absorbing  that  she  did  not  perceive  Cyprian's 
entrance  until  he  stood  before  her.  A  start — a  fluttering  blush, 
and  the  magnetic  influence  was  evident  to  both.  Cyprian  was 
not  yet  so  much  of  a  schoolmaster  that  he  could  talk  nothing  but 
grammar ;  and  though  you  might  have  found  it  difficult  to  parse 
what  he  said  to  Persis  on  that  occasion,  the  meaning  was,  on  the 


56  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

whole,  remarkably  clear  to  her  mind.  She  felt  satisfactorily  con. 
vmced  that  Cyprian  had  long  loved  her,  though  pride  and  pov 
erty  would  forever  have  sealed  his  lips,  but  for  the  rumour  that 
she  had  decidedly  refused  a  rich  lover. 

And  what  did  poor  George  Burnet  do  ?     He  talked  undutifully 
to  his  amiable  mamma,  and  swore  he  would  go  and  be  a  Patriot 
Mrs.  Burnet  took  both  these  things  quietly,  and  George,  after  all, 
had  to  marry  Polly  Drinkwater. 


HARVEST  MUSINGS.  57 


HARVEST    MUSINGS. 


WHO  can  help  falling  into  a  reverie  at  the  decline  of  a  sultry 
summer  day  ?  Who  can  pass  unnoticed  the  delicious  changes  in 
the  light  and  in  the  air  ;  the  orange  tints  darkening  into  purple, 
and  the  hot  breath  of  Day  freshened  by  the  soft-falling  dew  ? 
The  whip-poor-wills  "  striving  one  with  the  other  which  could  in 
most  dainty  variety  recount  their  wrong-caused  sorrow,"*  fill  the 
woods  with  their  plaints  ;  the  harvest-moon  rises  in  the  blue  depths 
of  ether,  globular  to  the  sight,  not  merely  round  ;  and  of  a  deep 
golden  orange  colour,  like — like — Jerry  Dingle  says  it  is  like  "the 
yelk  of  an  egg  that's  been  froze,  and  then  dropt  into  a  great  tub 
o'  bluin'-water."  Not  so  very  unlike,  good  Jerry,  as  mine  own 
observation  witnesseth  at  this  moment ;  and  so,  in  the  barrenness 
of  our  own  sun-burnt  and  wilted  fancy,  we  will  let  thy  homely 
comparison  stand  for  want  of  a  better. 

How  still  is  this  evening  atmosphere  !  The  breeze  is  not  yet 
strong  enough  to  wave  the  curtain ;  it  only  stirs  it,  as  with  an  ex 
pectant  thrill  !  Would  it  might  come !  with  force  sufficient  to 
drive  away  some  of  these  musquitoes,  whose  attacks  are  enough  to 
put  to  flight  all  romantic  thoughts  except  those  of  boarding-school 
girls  and  midshipmen.  The  night-hawks  are  very  busy  ;  they 
have  scented  our  broods  of  young  turkeys ;  and  there  are  owls 
enough  hooting  and  flying  about,  to  "  scare"  any  body  that  was 
not  "  bora  in  the  woods."  The  cows  come  lowing  home,  bringing 
with  them  a  circumambient  cloud  of  musquitoes,  to  "  spell"  those 
which  have  exhausted  their  energies  upon  us.  One  lone  and  lorn 
individual  of  the  horned  people  stays  mourning  in  the  forest ; 
probably  calling  with  fruitless  iteration  upon  her  tender  offspring. 

*  Sir  Philip  Sydney's  "  Arcadia." 


58  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

doomed  to  the  knife  at  this  season  of  "  boarding  hands."  The 
katydids  are  high  in  their  eternal  disputation  ;  and  somewhere 
within  hearing,  though  out  of  sight,  is  Jerry  Dingle,  with  a  rifle, 
getting  his  cradle  ready  for  to-morrow. 

Oh,  mystery  of  mysteries  were  once  these  dark  sayings  to  my 
uninitiated  ear  !  Why  should  a  "  rifle"  be  needed  for  reaping, 
since  though  grain  shoots,  nobody  every  heard  of  its  being  shot  ? 
And  the  "  cradle  ?"  Wheat  waves,  but  why  should  it  be  rocked  ? 
Wild  music-  called  me  once  to  the  gate,  and  there  stood  Jerry 
with  a  whetstone  sharpening  a  scythe,  which  had  several  slender 
rods  arranged  parallel  with  its  curved  blade,  and  now  the  riddle 
was  read.  But  1  have  never  learned  to  this  day  why  a  whet 
stone  should  be  called  a  "  rifle,"  while  there  is  so  different  an  im 
plement  of  the  same  name  so  much  in  use  among  us.  The 
"  cradle "  seems  more  intelligible,  because  the  pretty  slender 
curved  bars  which  help  to  lay  the  grain  in  regular  rows  as  fast 
as  it  is  cut,  do  bear  some  little  resemblance  to  the  form  of 
rockers. 

The  operation  of  cradling  is  worth  a  journey  to  see.  The 
sickle  may  be  more  classical,  but  it  cannot  compare  in  beauty 
with  the  swaying,  regular  motion  of  the  cradle,  which  cuts  at 
once  a  space  as  wide  as  strong  arms,  aided  by  a  long  blade,  can 
describe ;  and  at  the  same  time  lays  the  golden  treasure  in  beau 
tiful  lines,  like  well-ordered  hosts  in  array  of  battle.  There  is 
no  movement  more  graceful  and  harmonious  than  that  of  a  row 
of  cradlers ;  none  on  which  one  can  gaze  by  the  hour  with  more 
pleasure.  It  suggests  the  idea  of  soft  music — siciliano  or  gracioso. 

The  subject  of  the  weather,  always  so  valuable  a  resource  in 
the  way  of  conversation,  is  never  more  prominent  than  during 
the  harvest  time.  Saving  and  excepting  new  year's  day,  when 
the  beaux  are  apt  to  be,  as  Mr.  C.  said,  "  hard  up  for  talk,"  and 
some  few  bitter  days  in  February,  when  tingling  fingers  and 
crimson  noses  remind  one  inevitably  of  the  state  of  the  atmos 
phere,  there  is  indeed  no  period  when  the  weather  is  so  univer 
sally  the  theme  for  young  and  old,  rich  and  poor.  In  town  this 
subjection  to  the  skyey  influences  wears  one  aspect,  in  the  coun 
try  another.  There  is  no  part  of  the  year  when  the  difference 
between  city  and  country  views  and  habits  is  more  striking. 


HARVEST  MUSINGS.  59 


Those  who  have  brought  city  habits  with  them  to  this  green  and 
growing  world,  and  who  naturally  look  back  very  frequently  with 
feelings  of  affectionate  reminiscence  to  the  roasting  brick  houses 
and  the  broiling  flag  pavements  which  helped  to  ripen  their  earlier 
summers,  are  particularly  alive  to  the  change  in  their  location 
and  circumstances  when  this  time  comes  round.  How  the  citizen 
labours  to  be  cool  !  How  pathetically  he  descants  on  each  partic 
ular  stage  of  sweltering  !  How  do  magazines  and  dailies  teem 
with  articles  which  only  to  read  bring  the  drops  to  one's  fore 
head  !  What  listless  hours  !  what  groans,  what  fans,  what  lem 
onade,  what  ice-cream,  are  associated  in  civic  minds  with  the 
idea  of  the  dog-days  !  What  racing  to  springs  and  watering- 
places,  what  crowding  in  ferry-boats  and  rail-road  cars,  attest  the 
anxiety  of  the  urbane  world  for  a  breath  of  cool  air  !  Recrea 
tion  has  become  a  serious  business ;  amusement  a  solemn  duty  ; 
for  who  can  work  in  such  weather?  At  Saratoga  or  the  Falls, 
at  Rockaway  or  Nahant,  strenuous  Idleness  has  but  one  aim — the 
killing  of  the  sultry  hours;  and  nobody  will  deny,  that  after  all, 
the  hours  sometimes  die  hard. 

We  too  labour  to  be  cool,  but  it  is  after  another  sort.  The 
citizen  who  finds  it  difficult  to  sustain  life  at  this  season,  even 
with  the  aid  of  baths  and  ices,  may  be  curious  to  know  how  the 
wretched  being  whom  necessity  forces  to  labour  under  the  sun  of 
August,  endures  the  burden  of  existence  ;  how  often  he  seeks  the 
cooling  shade  ;  what  drinks  moisten  his  parched  throat;  by  what 
means  he  contrives  to  fan  his  burning  brow.  Fear  nothing,  oh  ! 
sympathizing  reader  !  Save  thy  sensibilities  for  a  more  urgent 
call.  This  is  a  world  of  compensations.  The  labourer  has 
neither  shade,  nor  punkah,  nor  lemonade,  nor  even  ginger-beer. 
He  may  get  a  drink  of  buttermilk  occasionally  ;  but  the  spark 
ling,  ice-cold  spring  supplies  his  best  beverage  ;  and  in  place  of 
all  thy  luxuries  he  lives  from  sunrise  till  sunset  in  a  perpetual 
vapour-bath,  of  Nature's  own  providing  ;  more  refreshing  by  far 
than  even  the  famed  solace  of  the  Turk  ;  an  I  he  does  his  own 
shampooing  so  well  that  every  power  of  his  frame  is  kept  inces 
santly  in  the  very  best  condition.  He  would  die  on  thy  sofa. 

Yes !  in  the  country  all  is  activity  and  bustle,  at  the  very  time 
when  the  seekers  of  pleasure  are  at  their  wit's  end  for  pastime. 


60  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

It  is  the  era  not  only  from  which,  but  toward  which  all  reckon  for 
weeks.  "  I  can't  undertake  it  afore  harvest."  "  Well.  I'll  see 
about  it  after  harvest."  4t  Wait  till  we  know  how  the  harvest  turns 
out."  Does  wife  or  daughter  long  for  a  new  dress  ?  "I'd  ra 
ther  give  you  two  after  harvest."  Is  a  jaunt  in  question  ?  The 
grain  must  be  secured  before  it  is  talked  of.  Is  a  man  "  under  the 
harrows,"  that  is,  hard  pressed  by  his  creditors  ?  He  begs  only 
for  a  delay  till  after  harvest.  Not  that  all  things  turn  out  al 
ways  according  to  the  expectations  of  these  sanguine  calculators. 
But  with  the  husbandman  this  time  is  the  boundary  of  his  imme 
diate  hope — his  mental  sensible  horizon — the  natural  limit  of  his 
view.  Hope,  it  is  true,  is  in  this  as  in  other  cases,  often  delusive 
enough  ;  but  the  return  of  the  season  affords  many  a  peg  on 
which  to  hang  bright  promises  that  cheer  from  afar  the  weary 
way  of  the  farmer. 

When  it  comes,  as  we  have  said,  all  is  activity  and  bustle.  All 
energies  are  concentrated  upon  it,  and  every  thing  gives  way  to 
it.  Politics  for  a  time  let  go  their  hold  upon  the  rustic  partisan. 
He  cares  not  for  vetoes,  nor  even  for  tariffs  ;  bad  legislation 
stays  not  the  ripening  of  corn  ;  (fortunately  for  us  all.)  When 
the  beneficent  Sun  has  done  his  work,  and  wheat  nods  its  brown 
head  and  sways  languidly  in  the  faint  breath  of  the  morning ; 
when  corn  flings  its  silken  banners  abroad,  and  the  earth  seems 
every  where  burdened  with  Heaven's  bounty  ;  at  this  glorious 
season  the  farmer,  with  his  heart  and  his  arm  nerved  by  hope, 
goes  forth  to  put  the  finishing  stroke  to  the  year's  labours.  No 
fear  of  the  sun's  fervours  deters  or  disheartens  him.  He  fears 
only  the  delicious  cooling  shower  which  would  drive  his  "hands" 
to  the  barn,  and  perhaps  detain  his  grain  on  the  ground  long 
enough  materially  to  injure  its  quality. 

To  be  early  in  the  field  is  the  farmer's  maxim.  He  waits  only 
for  light  enough  to  work  by,  before  calling  up  his  men,  who  are 
apt  to  be  up  before  he  calls  them,  so  contagious  is  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  hour.  No  one  likes  to  be  a  laggard  in  harvest.  And  then 
the  early  morning  air  is  so  fresh  and  so  inspiriting;  the  brighten 
ing  hues  of  the  pearly  East  so  irresistibly  glorious,  the  rising  of 
the  sun  so  majestic,  that  even  the  dull  soul  feels,  and  the  dull  eye 
gazes,  with  an  admiration  not  unmixed  with  awe.  Two  hours' 


HARVEST   MUSINGS.  Gl 


labour  before  the  six  o'clock  breakfast  lays  bare  a  wide  space  in 
the  field,  for  very  numerous  are  the  strong  arms  brought  up  to  the 
work.  This  season  is  the  test  of  the  husbandman's  capabilities, 
whether  as  master  or  man.  The  unthrifty  is  behindhand  in  his 
preparations.  He  has  depended  upon  luck  for  his  assistants,  and 
put  off  looking  for  or  engaging  them  until  the  last  moment. 
Luck,  as  usual,  takes  care  of  those  who  take  care  of  themselves, 
and  so  neighbour  Feckless  is  obliged  to  take  up  with  the  leavings. 
When  it  is  time  to  begin,  scythes  want  sharpening  and  rifles  are 
worn  out  or  lost,  and  perhaps  a  ride  of  ten  miles  is  necessary  to 
repair  the  deficiency.  Before  harvest  is  half  over,  the  stock  of 
provisions  proves  scanty,  and  half  a  day  must  be  spent  in  bor 
rowing  of  the  neighbours.  With  all  these  and  many  more  draw 
backs,  the  work  goes  on  but  slowly,  and  the  crop  is  perhaps  not 
properly  secured  in  season.  Wheat  will  become  so  dead  ripe 
that  much  is  lost  in  the  gathering,  or  perhaps  successive  rains, 
when  it  ought  to  be  under  cover,  will  rust  and  ruin  it  entirely. 
Neighbour  Feckless  has  of  course  no  barn;  (in  the  new  country 
better  farmers  cannot  always  afford  one  ;)  and  being  obliged  to 
put  up  his  grain  in  a  hurry,  it  is  perhaps  not  sufficiently  dried,  or 
not  well  stacked  ;  in  which  case  every  grain  will  sprout  and 
grow  in  such  a  way  that  the  entire  mass  becomes  one  body  of 
shoots,  so  lhat  it  must  be  torn  apart,  and  is  only  fit  to  feed  the 
cattle  with.  "Bad  luck!"  sighs  our  poor  friend. 

Far  otherwise  runs  the  experience  of  the  thriving  farmer.  All 
is  ready  betimes,  and  due  allowance  made  for  lee-way  and  "  per- 
adventures."  He  is  not  obliged  to  overwork  himself  or  his  peo 
ple.  He  goes  forward  in  his  own  business  in  order  to  insure  its 
success.  It  is  proverbial  in  the  country  that  "  Come,  boys !"  is 
always  better  than  "  Go,  boys  !"  Neighbour  Thrifty  knows  this 
so  well  that  if  he  be  not  in  the  freshness  of  his  strength,  so  that 
he  can  take  the  lead  in  mowing  or  reaping,  he  will  yet  engage  in 
some  part  of  the  day's  labours,  which  will  keep  him  in  the  midst 
of  his  men,  so  that  the  influence  of  his  eye  and  of  his  voice  may 
be  felt,  without  his  incurring  the  odious  suspicion  of  being  a 
mere  overseer  or  task-master.  And  what  a  various  congregation 
is  that  which  does  his  bidding !  Not  mere  day-labourers — for  the 
country  furnishes  comparatively  few  of  these — but  all  men  of  all 


62  WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 

kinds.  Do  you  want  your  wagon-wheel  mended  ?  The  wheel 
wright,  if  lie  have  no  fields  of  his  own,  is  busy  in  those  of  his 
neighbour.  The  carpenter  will  not  drive  a  nail  for  love  or  mon 
ey,  for  he  too  is  "  bespoke."  You  are  unlucky  if  your  nag 
need  shoeing  at  this  critical  period,  for  the  son  of  Vulcan  will 
not  have  time  to  light  a  fire  in  his  own  smithy,  perhaps  for  a 
fortnight.  Peep  into  the  village  school-house ;  you  will  find 
none  there  but  minors,  in  a  very  literal  sense  ;  wee  things  who 
would  be  only  in  the  way  at  home.  All  boys  who  are  old  enough 
to  rake  or  run  on  errands  are  sure  to  be  in  the  field,  and  the  girls 
are  helping  at  home  to  boil  and  bake.  The  interests  of  learning 
have  for  the  time  the  go-by.  This  is  so  well  understood  that  in 
most  places  the  master  abdicates  for  the  season  in  favour  of  the 
female  sovereign,  again  to  resume  the  sceptre  when  Winter 
grasps  his. 

Stranger  than  all,  even  law-suits  are  suspended,  for  the  justice 
is  in  the  field  ;  witnesses  are  swinging  the  cradle  ;  all  possible 
jurymen  are  scattered  miles  apart,  mowing  the  broad  savannahs  ; 
and  the  contending  parties  themselves  are  too  much  engrossed, 
each  with  his  own  business,  to  wish  matters  pushed  to  extremities 
at  such  a  crisis.  Even  the  young  lover  almost  forgets  the  flaxen 
ringlets  of  his  sweetheart  in  the  bustle  of  a  field-day,  and  if  he 
meet  the  damsel  at  evening  will  be  apt  to  entertain  her  with  an 
account  of  his  achievements  with  the  cradle  or  the  sickle.  Idle 
ness  is  banished  so  completely  that  even  the  incurably  lazv  bustle 
about  as  if  they  too  wished  to  do  something.  It  is  amusing  to 
see  one  of  this  class  at  this  juncture.  In  the  general  rush  of  bu 
siness  and  consequent  scarcity  of  strong  arms,  he  knows  that 
even  his  aid  is  of  consequence.  Feeling  this  to  be  emphatically 
his  day,  he  is  disposed  to  make  the  most  of  it.  He  accordingly 
assumes  a  swaggering  air  ;  don't  know  whether  he'll  come  or 
not:  but,  on  the  whole,  guesses  he'll  help!  He  braces  up  for 
the  occasion,  lays  by  his  rifle  and  his  fishing-tackle,  and  like  a 
spinning-top  whirls  round  bravely  for  a  while,  but  if  not  now  and 
then  lashed  into  speed  by  some  new  motive,  soon  subsides  into 
his  natural  state  of  repose.  We  have  known  a  worthy  of  this 
tone  promise  to  "  help"  four  different  farmers,  and  after  all,  take 


HARVEST  MUSINGS.  63 

down  his  rifle  and  "guess  he'd  better  go  and  try  if  he  couldn't 
see  a  deer !" 

The  good  woman  within  doors  is  far  from  being  idle  all  this 
time.  Hers  is  the  pleasant  though  rather  arduous  task  of  keeping 
the  harvesters  in  heart  for  the  labours  of  the  day,  and  for  this 
purpose  she  summons  all  her  skill  and  forethought,  and  sets  forth 
all  her  good  cheer.  Pies  and  cake  and  all  manner  of  rustic 
dainties  grace  her  bounteous  board  ;  for  her  reputation  is  at  stake, 
since  she  is  supposed  at  this  time  to  do  her  very  best.  To  set  a 
poor  table  at  hai  vest  is  death  to  any  housewifely  reputation.  Good 
humour  too  is  very  desirable,  where  work  is  to  be  done  ;  and  to 
this  we  all  kno\v  good  cheer  is  apt  to  contribute  ;  and  no  mis 
tress  likes  to  see  her  table  surrounded  by  sour  faces,  even  if 
the  work  should  go  on  as  well  as  ever.  The  providing  for  a 
dozen  or  two  of  harvest-hands  is  not  a  matter  of  any  especial  re 
search  ;  since  although,  as  we  have  hinted,  some  delicacies  are 
always  included,  yet  the  main  body  of  the  meal,  three  times  a 
day,  is  formed  of  pork  and  hot  bread.  Where  these  are  abun 
dant,  (and  no  Western  farmer  need  lack  either,)  the  adjuncts  are 
matter  of  small  moment.  Pork  and  hot  bread  three  times  a  day  ! 
No  wonder  they  can  work  twelve  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four. 
To  labour  any  less  on  such  diet  would  be  suicide. 

One  of  the  pretty  sights  of  these  days  is  the  passing  of  the 
huge  loads  of  grain  and  hay  as  they  are  brought  home  to  their 
several  owners.  There  are  generally  three  or  four  men  and 
boys  on  the  top  of  each  load,  chattering  merrily,  urging  on  the 
cattle,  and  evincing  in  their  tones  and  gestures  a  glad  sense  of 
bustle  and  importance  which  is  quite  infectious.  One  cannot 
help  watching  them  as  they  toss  and  stack  their  graceful  burdens, 
and  sympathizing  in  their  merry  laughter,  and  almost  envying 
them  their  light-hearted  jocularity.  By  and  by  the  wagon  passes 
again,  a  mere  frame,  with  a  man  or  boy  at  every  stake,  holding 
on  for  life,  and  laughing  and  talking  louder  than  ever,  since  the 
speed  is  tenfold  and  the  jolting  in  proportion.  The  gradual  com 
pletion  of  a  stack  and  the  final  pointing  out  and  thatching  which 
is  to  secure  all  within  from  the  weather,  is  an  operation  in  which 
we  often  find  amusement  by  the  hour. 

The  harvest-moon  is  a  phenomenon  which  can  hardly  be  passed 


64  WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 

over,  in  thinking  of  this  season.  As  if  to  cheer  and  aid  the  hus 
bandman  on  whose  apparently  humble  labours  the  comfort,  the 
very  existence  of  the  proudest  is  absolutely  dependant,  the  moon 
shows  her  glowing  face  at  nearly  the  same  hour  for  a  whole 
week,  lengthening  out  the  day  with  some  hours  of  refreshing 
coolness.  The  surpassing  beauty  of  her  mild  light  can  be  fully 
appreciated  only  after  a  day  of  heat  and  dust  and  exertion.  In 
the  country,  in  the  true  wild  forest,  and  after  the  labours  of  ihe 
harvest  field,  it  has  an  ineffable  charm.  We  will  not  call  the 
harvest-moon  a  miracle,  for  astronomers  explain  her  constancy ; 
but  we  will  say  that  a  phenomenon  so  admirably  adapted  to  the 
consolation  and  refreshment  of  the  weary  tiller  of  the  soil,  seems 
to  refer  us  directly  to  the  divine  benignity,  which  disdains  not  to 
watch  over  the  comforts  as  well  as  the  necessities  of  all. 

Would  I  might  add  to  this  sketch  of  the  labours  of  the  harvest, 
that  we  do  honour  to  its  close  by  some  innocent  festivities  like 
those  which  used  to  be  known  under  the  name  of  harvest-home. 
But  alas !  our  holydays  are  only  political ;  election  days,  when  it 
is  our  business  to  vote,  and  "  Independence,"  when  it  is  our  bu 
siness  to  rejoice.  We  have  no  days  consecrated  to  innocent  hi 
larity  ;  no  days  of  the  feast  of  in-gathering,  over  which  harmless 
Sport  may  preside,  gladdening  at  once  the  heart  of  young  and 
old,  and  strengthening  the  links  of  human  sympathy.  But 
this  is  a  work-a-day  world,  and  we  are  a  working  people. 
Granted  ;  yet  we  should  work  no  whit  the  less  for  an  occasional 
interval  of  gayety.  But  there's  "  Thanksgiving" — true  ;  and 
good  as  far  as  it  goes.  It  is  a  family  gathering  ;  a  set  season  for 
the  meeting  of  near  friends,  and  renewing  of  all  thoughts  of  af 
fectionate  interest.  In  this  new  world  we  have  scarcely  begun 
to  pay  respect  to  this  occasion :  the  custom  is  regarded  partly  as 
sectional,  partly  as  inappropriate  ;  for  our  family-friends,  where 
are  they  ?  With  our  joy  there  would  mingle  a  touch  of  sadness. 
We  could  not  rejoice  in  thinking  of  the  absent. 

Are  we  wiser  than  our  forefathers  ? — those  of  the  olden  time, 
when  it  was  supposed  there  was  a  time  for  merry-making,  among 
other  good  things  in  this  world  ?  Were  the  feast  of  harvest  and 
the  feast  of  in-gathering,  which  were  ordained  to  the  Jews  by  the 
highest  authority,  purely  ceremonial  ?  Imperative  obligation  is 


HARVEST  MUSINGS.  65 

allowed  to  attach  to  the  command,  "Six  days  shalt  thou  labour, 
and  on  the  seventh  thou  shalt  rest."  Is  no  weight  whatever  to  be 
given  to  that  which  immediately  follows :  "  Thou  shalt  keep  the 
feast  of  harvest,  the  first-fruits  of  thy  labours  .  .  .  and  the 
feast  of  in -gathering,  which  is  in  the  end  of  the  year  ?"  A  plain 
reader  may  reasonably  be  puzzled  by  the  very  great  stress  we 
lay  upon  the  one,  and  the 'absolute  neglect  with  which  we  treat 
the  other.  It  is  true  we  know  but  little  of  the  especial  form  of 
these  festivals,  but  we  know  that  rejoicing  made  a  part  of  them, 
and  that  the  joy  was  heightened  by  feasting  and  music.  Not  only 
were  these  permitted,  but  commanded  ;  only  the  revelry  which  at 
tended  them,  when  manners  became  corrupt,  was  condemned. 
Has  the  nature  of  man  so  changed  that  all  this  has  now  become 
unsuitable  ?  Does  he  really  eschew  pleasures,  or  have  his 
pleasures  assumed  a  darker  character  ? 

6 


66  WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 


THE    BEE-TREE. 


AMONG  the  various  settlers  of  the  wide  West,  there  is  no  class 
which  exhibits  more  striking  peculiarities  than  that  which,  in 
spite  of  hard  work,  honesty,  and  sobriety,  still  continues  hope 
lessly  poor.  None  find  more  difficulty  in  the  solution  of  the 
enigma  presented  by  this  state  of  things,  than  the  sufferers  them 
selves;  and  it  is  with  some  bitterness  of  spirit  that  they  come  at 
last  to  the  conclusion,  that  the  difference  between  their  own  con 
dition  and  that  of  their  prosperous  neighbours,  is  entirely  owing 
to  their  own  "  bad  luck ;"  while  the  prosperous  neighbours  look 
musingly  at  the  ragged  children  and  squalid  wife,  and  regret  that 
the  head  of  the  house  "  ha'n't  no  faculty."  Perhaps  neither  view 
is  quite  correct. 

In  the  very  last  place  one  would  have  selected  for  a  dwelling, 
— in  the  centre  of  a  wide  expanse  of  low,  marshy  land, — on  a 
swelling  knoll,  which  looks  like  an  island, — stands  the  forlorn 
dwelling  of  my  good  friend,  Silas  Ashburn,  one  of  the  most 
conspicuous  victims  of  the  "  bad  luck"  alluded  to.  Silas  was 
among  the  earliest  settlers  of  our  part  of  the  country,  and  had 
half  a  county  to  choose  from  when  he  "  located"  in  the  swamp, 
— half  a  county  of  as  beautiful. dale  and  upland  as  can  be  found 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  great  lakes.  But  he  says  there  is  "  the  very 
first-rate  of  pasturing"  for  his  cows,  (and  well  there  may  be,  on 
forty  acres  of  wet  grass  !)  and  as  for  the  agues  which  have  nearly 
made  skeletons  of  himself  and  his  family,  his  opinion  is  that  it 
would  not  have  made  a  bit  of  difference  if  he  had  settled  on  the 
highest  land  in  Michigan,  since  "every  body  knows  if  you've  got 
to  have  the  ague,  why  you've  got  to,  and  all  the  high  land  and 
dry  land,  and  Queen  Ami*  in  the  world  wouldn't  make  no  odds." 

*  Quinine. 


THE   BEE-TREE.  67 


Silas  does  not  get  rich,  nor  even  comfortably  well  off,  although 
lie  works,  as  he  says,  "  like  a  tiger."  This  he  thinks  is  because 
"  rich  folks  ain't  willing  poor  folks  should  live,"  and  because  he, 
in  particular,  always  has  such  bad  luck.  Why  shouldn't  he 
make  money  ?  Why  should  he  not  have  a  farm  as  well  stocked, 
a  house  as  well  supplied,  and  a  family  as  well  clothed  and  cared 
for  in  all  respects,  as  his  old  neighbour  John  Dean,  who  came 
with  him  from  "  York  State  ?"  Dean  has  never  speculated,  nor 
hunted,  nor  fished,  nor  found  honey,  nor  sent  his  family  to  pick 
berries  for  sale.  All  these  has  Silas  done,  and  more.  His  family 
have  worked  hard;  they  have  worn  their  old  clothes  till  they  well 
nigh  dropped  off;  many  a  day,  nay,  month,  has  passed,  seeing 
potatoes  almost  their  sole  sustenance  ;  and  all  this  time  Dean's 
family  had  plenty  of  every  thing  they  wanted,  and  Dean  just 
jogged  on,  as  easy  as  could  be  ;  hardly  ever  stirring  from  home, 
except  on  'lection  days  ;  wasting  a  great  deal  of  time,  too,  (so 
Silas  thinks,)  "  helping  the  women  folks."  "But  some  people 
get  all  the  luck." 

These  and  similar  reflections  seem  to  be  scarcely  ever  absent 
from  the  mind  of  Silas  Ashburn,  producing  any  but  favourable 
results  upon  his  character  and  temper.  He  cannot  be  brought  to 
believe  that  Dean  has  made  more  money  by  splitting  rails  in  the 
winter  than  his  more  enterprising  neighbour  by  hunting  deer, 
skilful  and  successful  as  he  is.  He  will  not  notice  that  Dean 
often  buys  his  venison  for  half  the  money  he  has  earned  while 
Silas  was  hunting  it.  He  has  never  observed,  that  while  his  own 
sallow  helpmate  goes  barefoot  and  bonnetless  to  the  brush-heap  to 
fill  her  ragged  apron  with  miserable  fuel,  the  cold  wind  careering 
through  her  scanty  covering,  Mrs.  Dean  sits  by  a  good  fire,  amply 
provided  by  her  careful  husband,  patching  for  the  twentieth  time 
his  great  overcoat ;  and  that  by  the  time  his  Betsey  has  kindled 
her  poor  blaze,  and  sits  cowering  over  it,  shaking  with  ague, 
Mrs.  Dean,  with  well-swept  hearth,  is  busied  in  preparing  her 
husband's  comfortable  supper. 

These  things  Silas  does  not  and  will  not  see  ;  and  he  ever 
resents  fiercely  any  hint,  however  kindly  and  cautiously  given, 
that  the  steady  exercise  of  his  own  ability  for  labour,  and  a  little 
more  thrift  on  the  part  of  his  wife,  would  soon  set  all  things  right. 


WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 


When  he  spends  a  whole  night  "  'coon-hunting,"  and  is  obliged  to 
sleep  half  the  next  day,  and  feels  good  for  nothing  the  day  after, 
it  is  impossible  to  convince  him  that  the  "  varmint"  had  better 
been  left  to  cumber  the  ground,  and  the  two  or  three  dollars 
that  the  expedition  cost  him  been  bestowed  in  the  purchase  of  a 
blanket. 

"  A  blanket !"  he  would  exclaim  angrily  ;  "  don't  be  puttin' 
sich  uppish  notions  into  my  folks'  heads  !  Let  'em  make  com 
fortables  out  o'  their  old  gowns,  and  if  that  don't  do,  let  'em 
sleep  in  their  day-clothes,  as  I  do  !  Nobody  needn't  suffer  with  a 
great  fire  to  sleep  by." 

The  children  of  this  house  are  just  what  one  would  expect 
from  such  training.  Labouring  beyond  their  strength  at  such 
times  as  it  suits  their  father  to  work,  they  have  nevertheless 
abundant  opportunity  for  idleness  ;  and  as  the  mother  scarcely 
attempts  to  control  them,  they  usually  lounge  listlessly  by  the 
fireside,  or  bask  in  the  sunshine,  when  Ashburn  is  absent ;  and 
as  a  natural  consequence  of  this  irregular  mode  of  life,  the  whole 
family  are  frequently  prostrate  with  agues,  suffering  every  variety 
of  wretchedness,  while  there  is  perhaps  no  other  case  of  disease 
in  the  neighbourhood.  Then  comes  the  two-fold  evil  of  a  loner 
period  of  inactivity,  and  a  proportionately  long  doctor's  bill  ;  and 
as  Silas  is  strictly  honest,  and  means  to  wrong  no  man  of  his  due, 
the  scanty  comforts  of  the  convalescents  are  cut  down  to  almost 
nothing,  and  their  recovery  sadly  delayed,  that  the  heavy  expen 
ses  of  illness  may  be  provided  for.  This  is  some  of  poor  Ash- 
burn's  "  bad  luck." 

One  of  the  greatest  temptations  to  our  friend  Silas,  and  to  most 
of  his  class,  is  a  bee-hunt.  Neither  deer,  nor  'coons,  nor  prairie- 
hens,  nor  even  bears,  prove  half  as  powerful  enemies  to  anything 
like  regular  business,  as  do  these  little  thrifty  vagrants  of  the 
forest.  The  slightest  hint  of  a  bee-tree  will  entice  Silas  Ashburn 
and  his  sons  from  the  most  profitable  job  of  the  season,  even 
though  the  defection  is  sure  to  result  in  entire  loss  of  the  offered 
advantage;  and  if  the  hunt  prove  successful,  the  luscious  spoil  is 
generally  too  tempting  to  allow  of  any  care  for  the  future,  so  long 
as  the  "  sweet'nin"  can  be  persuaded  to  last.  "  It  costs  nothing," 
will  poor  Mrs.  Ashburn  observe,  "  let  'em  enjoy  it.  It  isn't  often 


THE    BEE-TREE. 


we  have  such  good  luck."  As  to  the  cost,  close  computation 
might  lead  to  a  different  conclusion ;  but  the  Ashburns  are  no 
calculators. 

It  was  on  one  of  the  lovely  mornings  of  our  ever  lovely  autumn, 
so  early  that  the  sun  had  scarcely  touched  the  tops  of  the  still 
verdant  forest,  that  Silas  Ashburn  and  his  eldest  son  sallied  forth 
for  a  day's  chopping  on  the  newly-purchased  land  of  a  ricn 
settler,  who  had  been  but  a  few  months  among  us.  The  tall  form 
of  the  father,  lean  and  gaunt  as  the  very  image  of  Famine, 
derived  little  grace  from  the  rags  which  streamed  from  the  elbows 
of  his  almost  sleeveless  coat,  or  flapped  round  the  tops  of  his 
heavy  boots,  as  he  strode  across  the  long  causeway  that  formed 
the  communication  from  his  house  to  the  dry  land.  Poor  Joe's 
costume  showed,  if  possible,  a  still  greater  need  of  the  aid  of  that 
useful  implement,  the  needle.  His  mother  is  one  who  thinks 
little  of  the  ancient  proverb  which  commends  the  stitch  in  time  ; 
and  the  clothing  under  her  care  sometimes  falls  in  pieces,  seam 
by  seam,  for  want  of  the  occasional  aid  is  rendered  more  espe 
cially  necessary  by  the  slightness  of  the  original  sewing ;  so 
that  the  brisk  breeze  of  the  morning  gave  the  poor  boy  no  faint 
resemblance  to  a  tall  young  aspen, 

"  With  all  its  leaves  fast  fluttering,  all  at  once." 

The  little  conversation  which  passed  between  the  father  and 
son  was  such  as  necessarily  makes  up  much  of  the  talk  of  the 
poor, — turning  on  the  difficulties  and  disappointments  of  life,  and 
the  expedients  by  which  there  may  seem  some  slight  hope  of 
eluding  these  disagreeables. 

"  If  we  hadn't  had  sich  bad  luck  this  summer,"  said  Mr.  Ash- 
burn,  "  losing  that  heifer,  and  the  pony,  and  them  three  hogs, — 
all  in  that  plaguy  spring-hole,  too, — I  thought  to  have  bought  that 
timbered  forty  of  Dean.  It  would  have  squared  out  my  farm  jist 
about  right." 

"  The  pony  didn't  die  in  the  spring-hole,  father,"  said  Joe. 

"  No,  he  did  not.  but  he  got  his  death  there,  for  all.  He  never 
stopped  shiverm'  from  the  time  he  fell  in.  You  thought  he  had 
the  agur,  but  I  know'd  well  enough  what  ailded  him  ;  but  I  wasn't 
a  goin'  to  let  Dean  know,  because  he'd  ha'  thought  himself  so 


70  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

blam'd  cunning,  after  all  he'd  said  to  me  about  that  spring-hole. 
If  the  agur  could  kill,  Joe,  we'd  all  ha'  been  dead  long  ago." 

Joe  sighed, — a  sigh  of  assent.     They  walked  on  musingly. 

"  This  is  going  to  be  a  good  job  of  Keene's,"  continued  Mr. 
Ashbum,  turning  to  a  brighter  theme,  as  they  crossed  the  road 
and  struck  into  the  "  timbered  land,"  on  their  way  to  the  scene 
of  the  day's  operations.  "  He  has  bought  three  eighties,  all  ly 
ing  close  together,  and  he'll  want  as  much  as  one  forty  cleared 
right  off;  and  I've  a  good  notion  to  take  the  fencin'  of  it  as  well 
as  the  choppin'.  He's  got  plenty  of  money,  and  they  say  he 
don't  shave  quite  so  close  as  some.  But  I  tell  you,  Joe,  if  I  do 
take  the  job,  you  must  turn  to  like  a  catamount,  for  I  ain't  a-go 
ing  to  make  a  nigger  o'  myself,  and  let  my  children  do  nothing 
but  eat." 

"  Well,  father,"  responded  Joe,  whose  pale  face  gave  token  of 
any  thing  but  high  living.  "  I'll  do  what  I  can ;  but  you  know  I 
never  work  two  days  at  choppin'  but  what  I  have  the  agur  like 
sixty, — and  a  feller  can't  work  when  he's  got  the  agur." 

"  Not  while  the  fit's  on,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  father ;  "  but  I've 
worked  many  an  afternoon  after  my  fit  was  over,  when  my  head 
felt  as  big  as  a  half-bushel,  and  my  hands  would  ha'  sizzed  if  I'd 

put  'em  in  water.  Poor  folks  has  got  to  work but,  Joe  !  if 

there  isn't  bees,  by  golley  !  I  wonder  if  any  body's  been  a 
baitin'  for  'em  ?  Stop  !  hush  !  watch  which  way  they  go !" 

And  with  breathless  interest — forgetful  of  all  troubles,  past, 
present,  and  future — they  paused  to  observe  the  capricious 
wheelings  and  flittings  of  the  little  cluster,  as  they  tried  every 
flower  on  which  the  sun  shone,  or  returned  again  and  again  to 
such  as  suited  best  their  discriminating  taste.  At  length,  after  a 
weary  while,  one  suddenly  rose  into  the  air  with  a  loud  whizz, 
and  after  balancing  a  moment  on  a  level  with  the  tree-tops,  dart 
ed  off,  like  a  well-sent  arrow,  toward  the  east,  followed  instantly 
by  the  whole  busy  company,  till  not  a  loiterer  remained. 

"  Well  !  if  this  isn't  luck  !"  exclaimed  Ashburn,  exultingly  ; 
"  they  make  right  for  Keene's  land  !  We'll  have  'em  !  go  ahead, 
Joe,  and  keep  your  eye  on  'em  !" 

Joe  obeyed  so  well  in  both  points,  that  he  not  only  outran  his 
father,  but  very  soon  turned  a  summerset  over  a  gnarled  root  or 


THE   BEE-TREE.  71 


grub  which  lay  in  his  path.  This  faux  pas  nearly  demolished 
one  side  of  his  face,  and  what  remained  of  his  jacket  sleeve, 
while  his  father,  not  quite  so  heedless,  escaped  falling,  but  tore 
his  boot  almost  off  with  what  he  called  "  a  contwisted  stub  of  the 
toe." 

But  these  were  trifling  inconveniences,  and  only  taught  them 
to  use  a  little  more  caution  in  their  eagerness.  They  followed  on, 
unweariedly  ;  crossed  several  fences,  and  threaded  much  of  Mr. 
Keerie's  tract  of  forest-land,  scanning  with  practised  eye  every 
decayed  tree,  whether  standing  or  prostrate,  until  at  length,  in  the 
side  of  a  gigantic  but  leafless  oak,  they  espied,  some  forty  feet 
from  the  ground,  the  "  sweet  home"  of  the  immense  swarm 
whose  scouts  had  betrayed  their  hiding-place. 

"The  Indians  have  been  here;"  said  Ashburn  ;  "you  see 
they've  felled  this  saplin'  agin  the  bee-tree,  so  as  they  could 
climb  up  to  the  hole;  but  the  red  devils  have  been  disturbed 
afore  they  had  time  to  dig  it  out.  If  they'd  had  axes  to  cut  down 
the  big  tree,  they  wouldn't  have  left  a  smitchin  o'  honey,  they're 
such  tarnal  thieves !" 

Mr.  Ashburn's  ideas  of  morality  were  much  shocked  at  the 
thought  of  the  dishonesty  of  the  Indians,  who,  as  is  well  known, 
have  no  rights  of  any  kind  ;  but  considering  himself  as  first 
finder,  the  lawful  proprietor  of  this  much-coveted  treasure,  gain 
ed  too  without  the  trouble  of  a  protracted  search,  or  the  usual 
amount  of  baiting,  and  burning  of  honeycombs,  he  lost  no  time 
in  taking  possession  after  the  established  mode. 

To  cut  his  initials  with  his  axe  on  the  trunk  of  the  bee-tree, 
and  to  make  blazes  on  several  of  the  trees  he  had  passed,  to  serve 
as  way-marks  to  the  fortunate  spot,  detained  him  but  few  min 
utes ;  and  with  many  a  cautious  noting  of  the  surrounding  lo 
calities,  and  many  a  charge  to  Joe  "  not  to  say  nothing  to  nobody," 
Silas  turned  his  steps  homeward,  musing  on  the  important  fact 
that  he  had  had  good  luck  for  once,  and  planning  important  busi 
ness  quite  foreign  to  the  day's  chopping. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Keene,  who  is  a  restless  old  gen 
tleman,  and,  moreover,  quite  green  in  the  dignity  of  a  land-holder, 
thought  proper  to  turn  his  horse's  head,  for  this  particular  morn 
ing  ride,  directly  towards  these  same  "three  eighties,"  on  which 


72  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

he  had  engaged  Ashburn  and  his  son  to  commence  the  important 
work  of  clearing.  Mr.  Keene  is  low  of  stature,  rather  globular 
in  contour,  and  exceedingly  parrot-nosed  ;  wearing,  moreover,  a 
face  red  enough  to  lead  one  to  suppose  he  had  made  his  money 
as  a  dealer  in  claret ;  but,  in  truth,  one  of  the  kindest  of  men,  in 
spite  of  a  little  quickness  of  temper.  lie  is  profoundly  versed  in 
the  art  and  mystery  of  store-keeping,  and  as  profoundly  ignorant 
of  all  that  must  sooner  or  later  be  learned  by  every  resident  land 
owner  of  the  western  country. 

Thus  much  being  premised,  we  shall  hardly  wonder  that  our 
good  old  friend  felt  exceedingly  aggrieved  at  meeting  Silas  Ash- 
burn  and  the  <4  lang-legged  chiel"  Joe,  (who  has  grown  longer 
with  every  shake  of  ague,)  on  the  way  from  his  tract,  instead  of 
to  it. 

"  What  in  the  world's  the  matter  now  !"  began  Mr.  Keene,  ra 
ther  testily.  "  Are  you  never  going  to  begin  that  work  ?" 

"  1  don't  know  but  I  shall ;"  was  the  cool  reply  of  Ashburn  ;  "  I 
can't  begin  it  to-day,  though." 

"  And  why  not,  pray,  when  I've  been  so  long  waiting  ?" 

"  Because,  I've  got  something  else  that  must  be  done  first. 
You  don't  think  your  work  is  all  the  work  there  is  in  the  world, 
do  you  ?" 

Mr.  Keene  was  almost  too  angry  to  reply,  but  he  made  an 
effort  to  say,  "  When  am  I  to  expect  you,  then?" 

"  Why,  I  guess  we'll  come  on  in  a  day  or  two,  and  then  I'll 
bring  both  the  boys." 

So  saying,  and  not  dreaming  of  having  been  guilty  of  an 
incivility,  Mr.  Ashburn  passed  on,  intent  only  on  his  bee-tree. 

Mr.  Keene  could  not  help  looking  after  the  ragged  pair  for  a 
moment,  and  he  muttered  angrily  as  he  turned  away,  "  Aye  ! 
pride  and  beggary  go  together  in  this  confounded  new  country  ! 
You  feel  very  independent,  no  doubt,  but  I'll  try  if  I  can't  find 
somebody  that  wants  money." 

And  Mr.  Keene's  pony,  as  if  sympathizing  with  his  master's 
vexation,  started  off  at  a  sharp,  passionate  trot,  which  he  has 
learned,  no  doubt,  under  the  habitual  influence  of  the  spicy  tem 
per  of  his  rider. 

To  find  labourers  who  wanted  money,  or  who  would  own  that 


THE  BEE-TREE.  73 


they  wanted  it,  was  at  that  time  no  easy  task.  Our  poorer  neigh- 
hours  have  been  so  little  accustomed  to  value  household  comforts, 
that  the  opportunity  to  obtain  them  presents  but  feeble  incitement 
to  that  continuous  industry  which  is  usually  expected  of  one 
who  works  in  the  employ  of  another.  However,  it  happened 
in  this  case  that  Mr.  Keene's  star  was  in  the  ascendant,  and  the 
woods  resounded,  ere  long,  under  the  sturdy  strokes  of  several 
choppers. 

The  Ashburns,  in  tne  mean  time,  set  themselves  busily  at  work 
to  make  due  preparations  for  the  expedition  which  they  had 
planned  for  the  following  night.  They  felt,  as  does  every  one 
who  finds  a  bee-tree  in  this  region,  that  the  prize  was  their  own 
— that  nobody  else  had  the  slightest  claim  to  its  rich  stores  ;  yet 
the  gathering  in  of  the  spoils  was  to  be  performed,  according  to 
the  invariable  custom  where  the  country  is  much  settled,  in  the 
silence  of  night,  and  with  every  precaution  of  secrecy.  This 
seems  inconsistent,  yet  such  is  the  fact. 

The  remainder  of  the  "  lucky"  day  and  the  whole  of  the  suc 
ceeding  one,  passed  in  scooping  troughs  for  the  reception  of  the 
honey, — tedious  work  at  best,  but  unusually  so  in  this  instance, 
because  several  of  the  family  were  prostrate  with  the  ague. 
Ashburn's  anxiety  lest  some  of  his  customary  bad  luck  should 
intervene  between  discovery  and  possession,  made  him  more 
impatient  and  harsh  than  usual  ;  and  the  interior  of  that  comfort 
less  cabin  would  have  presented  to  a  chance  visitor,  who  knew 
not  of  the  golden  hopes  which  cheered  its  inmates,  an  aspect  of 
unmitigated  wretchedness.  Mrs.  Ashburn  sat  almost  in  the  fire, 
with  a  tattered  hood  on  her  head  and  the  relics  of  a  bed-quilt 
wrapped  about  her  person  ;  while  the  emaciated  limbs  of  the  baby 
on  her  lap, — two  years  old,  yet  unweaned, — seemed  almost  to 
reach  the  floor,  so  preternaturally  were  they  lengthened  by  the 
stretches  of  a  four  months'  ague.  Two  of  the  boys  lay  in  the 
trundle-bed,  which  was  drawn  as  near  to  the  fire  as  possible ;  and 
every  spare  article  of  clothing  that  the  house  afforded  was  thrown 
over  them,  in  the  vain  attempt  to  warm  their  shivering  frames. 
"  Stop  your  whimperin',  can't  ye!"  said  Ashburn,  as  he  hewed 
away  with  hatchet  and  jack-knife  ;  "  you'll  be  hot  enough  before 


74  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

long."  And  when  the  fever  came  his  words  were  more  than 
verified. 

Two  nights  had  passed  before  the  preparations  were  completed. 
Ashburn  and  such  of  his  boys  as  could  work,  had  laboured  inde- 
fatigably  at  the  troughs,  and  Mrs.  Ashburn  had  thrown  away  the 
milk,  and  the  few  other  stores  which  cumbered  her  small  sup 
ply  of  household  utensils,  to  free  as  many  as  possible  for  the 
grand  occasion.  This  third  day  had  been  "  well  day"  to  most  of 
the  invalids,  and  after  the  moon  had  risen  to  light  them  through 
the  dense  wood,  the  family  set  off,  in  high  spirits,  on  their  long, 
dewy  walk.  They  had  passed  the  causeway,  and  were  turning 
from  the  highway  into  the  skirts  of  the  forest,  when  they  were 
accosted  by  a  stranger,  a  young  man  in  a  hunter's  dress,  evidently 
a  traveller,  and  one  who  knew  nothing  of  the  place  or  its  inhab 
itants,  as  Mr.  Ashburn  ascertained,  to  his  entire  satisfaction,  by 
the  usual  number  of  queries.  The  stranger,  a  handsome  youth 
of  one  or  two  and  twenty,  had  that  frank,  joyous  air  which  takes 
so  well  with  us  Wolverines;  and  after  he  had  fully  satisfied  our 
bee-hunter's  curiosity,  he  seemed  disposed  to  ask  some  questions 
in  his  turn.  One  of  the  first  of  these  related  to  the  moving  cause 
of  the  procession  and  their  voluminous  display  of  containers. 

"  Why,  we're  goin'  straight  to  a  bee-tree  that  I  lit  upon  two  or 
three  days  ago,  and  if  you've  a  mind  to,  you  may  go  'long,  and 
welcome.  It's  a  real  peeler,  I  tell  ye  !  There's  a  hundred  and 
fifty  weight  of  honey  in  it,  if  there's  a  pound." 

The  young  traveller  waited  no  second  invitation.  His  light 
knapsack  was  but  small  incumbrance,  and  he  took  upon  himself 
the  weight  of  several  troughs,  that  seemed  too  heavy  for  the 
weaker  members  of  the  expedition.  They  walked  on  at  a  rapid 
and  steady  pace  for  a  good  half  hour,  over  paths  which  were  none 
of  the  smoothest,  and  only  here  and  there  lighted  by  the  moon 
beams.  The  mother  and  children  were  but  ill  fitted  for  the 
exertion,  but  Aladdin,  on  his  midnight  way  to  the  wondrous 
vault  of  treasure,  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  complaining  of 
fatigue. 

Who  then  shall  describe  the  astonishment,  the  almost  breathless 
rage  of  Silas  Ashburn, — the  bitter  disappointment  of  the  rest, — 
when  they  found,  instead  of  the  bee-tree,  a  great  gap  in  the  dense 


THE  BEE-TREE.  75 


forest,  and  the  bright  moon  shining  on  the  shattered  fragments  of 
the  immense  oak  that  had  contained  their  prize  ?  The  poor 
children,  fainting  with  toil  now  that  the  stimulus  was  gone,  threw 
themselves  on  the  ground ;  and  Mrs.  Ashburn,  seating  her  wasted 
form  on  a  huge  branch,  burst  into  tears. 

"  It's  all  one !"  exclaimed  Ashburn,  when  at  length  he  could 
find  words  ;  "  it's  all  alike  !  this  is  just  my  luck  !  It  ain't  none 
of  my  neighbours,  work,  though  !  They  know  better  than  to  be 
so  mean  !  It's  the  rich  !  Them  that  begrudges  the  poor  man  the 
breath  of  life  !"  And  he  cursed  bitterly  and  with  clenched  teeth, 
whoever  had  robbed  him  of  his  right. 

"  Don't  cry,  Betsey,"  he  continued  ;  "  let's  go  home.  I'll  find 
out  who  has  done  this,  and  I'll  let  'em  know  there's  law  for  the 
poor  man  as  well  as  the  rich.  Come  along,  young  'uns,  and  stop 
your  blubberin',  and  let  them  splinters  alone  !"  The  poor  little 
things  were  trying  to  gather  up  some  of  the  fragments  to  which 
the  honey  still  adhered,  but  their  father  was  too  angry  to  be  kind. 

"  Was  the  tree  on  your  own  land  ?"  now  inquired  the  young 
stranger,  who  had  stood  by  in  sympathizing  silence  during  this 
scene. 

"  No  !  but  that  don't  make  any  difference.  The  man  that 
found  it  first,  and  marked  it,  had  a  right  to  it  afore  the  President 
of  the  United  States,  and  that  I'll  let  'em  know,  if  it  costs  me  my 
farm.  It's  on  old  Keene's  land,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  the 
old  miser  had  done  it  himself, — but  I'll  let  him  know  what's  the 
law  in  Michigan  /" 

"  Mr.  Keene  a  miser  !"  exclaimed  the  young  stranger,  rather 
hastily. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  know  about  him  ?" 

"  O  !  nothing  ! — that  is,  nothing  very  particular — but  I  have 
heard  him  well  spoken  of.  What  I  was  going  to  say  was,  that  I 
fear  you  will  not  find  the  law  able  to  do  any  thing  for  you.  If 
the  tree  was  on  another  person's  property " 

"  Property  !  that's  just  so  much  as  you  know  about  it !"  replied 
Ashburn,  angrily.  "  I  tell  ye  I  know  the  law  well  enough,  and 
I  know  the  honoy  was  mine — and  old  Keene  shall  know  it  too,  if 
he's  the  man  that  stole  it." 

The  stranger  politely  forbore   further  reply,  and  the  whole 


76  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

party  walked  on  in  sad  silence  till  they  reached  the  village  road, 
when  the  young  stranger  left  them  with  a  kindly  "  good  night !" 

It  was  soon  after  an  early  breakfast  on  the  morning  which 
succeeded  poor  Ashburn's  disappointment,  that  Mr.  Keene,  at 
tended  by  his  lovely  orphan  niece,  Clarissa  Bensley,  was  engaged 
in  his  little  court-yard,  tending  with  paternal  care  the  brilliant 
array  of  autumnal  flowers  which  graced  its  narrow  limits.  Beds 
in  size  and  shape  nearly  resembling  patty-pans,  were  filled  to 
overflowing  with  dahlias,  china-asters  and  marigolds,  while  the 
walks  which  surrounded  them,  daily  "  swept  with  a  woman's 
neatness,"  set  off  to  the  best  advantage  these  resplendent  children 
of  Flora.  A  vine-hung  porch,  that  opened  upon  the  miniature 
Paradise,  was  lined  with  bird-cages  of  all  sizes,  and  on  a  yard- 
square  grass-plot  stood  the  tin  cage  of  a  squirrel,  almost  too  fat  to 
be  lively. 

Mr.  Keene  was  childless,  and  consoled  himself  as  childless 
people  are  apt  to  do  if  they  are  wise,  by  taking  into  favour,  in 
addition  to  his  destitute  niece,  as  many  troublesome  pets  as  he 
could  procure.  His  wife,  less  philosophical,  expended  her  super 
fluous  energies  upon  a  multiplication  of  household  cares  which 
her  ingenuity  alone  could  have  devised  within  a  domain  like  a 
nut-shell.  Such  rubbing  and  polishing — such  arranging  and  re 
arranging  of  useless  nick-nacks,  had  never  yet  been  known  in 
these  utilitarian  regions.  And,  what  seemed  amusing  enough, 
Mrs.  Keene,  whose  time  passed  in  laborious  nothings,  often  re 
proved  her  lawful  lord  very  sharply  for  wasting  his  precious 
hours  upon  birds  and  flowers,  squirrels  and  guinea-pigs,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  turkeys  and  the  magnificent  peacock,  which 
screamed  at  least  half  of  every  night,  so  that  his  master  was  fain 
TO  lock  him  up  in  an  outhouse,  for  fear  the  neighbours  should  kill 
him  in  revenge  for  the  murder  of  their  sleep.  These  forms  of 
solace  Mrs.  Keene  often  condemned  as  "  really  ridic'lous,"  yet 
she  cleaned  the  bird-cages  with  indefatigable  punctuality,  and 
seemed  never  happier  than  when  polishing  with  anxious  care  the 
bars  of  the  squirrel's  tread-mill.  But  there  was  one  never-dying 
subject  of  debate  between  this  worthy  couple, — the  company  and 
services  of  the  fair  Clarissa,  who  was  equally  the  darling  of  both, 


THE  BEE-TREE.  77 


and  superlatively  useful  in  every  department  which  claimed  the 
attention  of  either.  How  the  maiden,  light-footed  as  she  was, 
ever  contrived  to  satisfy  both  uncle  and  aunt,  seemed  really  mys 
terious.  It  was,  "  Mr.  Keene,  don't  keep  Clary  wasting  her  time 
there  when  I've  so  much  to  do  !" — or,  on  the  other  hand,  "  My 
dear !  do  send  Clary  out  to  help  me  a  little  !  I'm  sure  she's  been 
stewing  there  long  enough  !"  And  Clary,  though  she  could  not 
perhaps  be  in  two  places  at  once,  certainly  accomplished  as  much 
as  if  she  could. 

On  the  morning  of  which  we  speak,  the  young  lady,  having 
risen  very  early,  and  brushed  and  polished  to  her  aunt's  content, 
was  now  busily  engaged  in  performing  the  various  behests  of  her 
uncle,  a  service  much  more  to  her  taste.  She  was  as  completely 
at  home  among  birds  and  flowers  as  a  poet  or  a  Peri  ;  and  not 
Ariel  himself,  (of  whom  I  dare  say  she  had  never  heard,)  accom 
plished  with  more  grace  his  gentle  spiriting.  After  all  was 
"  perform'd  to  point," — when  no  dahlia  remained  unsupported, — 
no  cluster  of  many-hued  asters  without  its  neat  hoop, — when  no 
intrusive  weed  could  be  discerned,  even  through  Mr.  Keene's 
spectacles, — Clarissa  took  the  opportunity  to  ask  if  she  might  take 
the  pony  for  a  ride. 

"  To  see  those  poor  Ashburns,  uncle." 

"  They're  a  lazy,  impudent  set,  Clary." 

"  But  they  are  all  sick,  uncle ;  almost  every  one  of  the  family 
down  with  ague.  Do  let  me  go  and  carry  them  something.  I 
hear  they  are  completely  destitute  of  comforts." 

"  And  so  they  ought  to  be,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Keene,  who 
could  not  forget  what  he  considered  Ashburn's  impertinence. 

But  his  habitual  kindness  prevailed,  and  he  concluded  his  re 
monstrance  (after  giving  voice  to  some  few  remarks  which  would 
not  have  gratified  the  Ashburns  particularly,)  by  saddling  the 
pony  himself,  arranging  Clarissa's  riding-dress  with  all  the  assi 
duity  of  a  gallant  cavalier,  and  giving  into  her  hand,  with  her  neat 
silver-mounted  whip,  a  little  basket,  well  crammed  by  his  wife's 
kind  care  with  delicacies  for  the  invalids.  No  wonder  that  he 
looked  after  her  with  pride  as  she  rode  off!  There  are  few  pret 
tier  girls  than  the  bright-eyed  Clarissa. 


WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 


When  the  pony  reached  the  log-causeway, — just  where  the 
thick  copse  of  witch-hazel  skirts  Mr.  Ashburn's  moist  domain, — 
some  unexpected  occurrence  is  said  to  have  startled,  not  the  sober 
pony,  but  his  very  sensitive  rider ;  and  it  has  been  asserted  that 
the  pony  stirred  not  from  the  said  hazel  screen  for  a  longer  time 
than  it  would  take  to  count  a  hundred,  very  deliberately.  What 
faith  is  to  be  attached  to  this  rumour,  the  historian  ventures  not 
to  determine.  It  may  be  relied  on  as  a  fact,  however,  that  a 
strong  arm  led  the  pony  over  the  slippery  corduroy,  but  no  fur 
ther  ;  for  Clarissa  Bensley  cantered  alone  up  the  green  slope 
which  leads  to  Mr.  Ashburn's  door. 

"  How  are  you  this  morning,  Mrs.  Ashburn  ?"  asked  the  young 
visitant  as  she  entered  the  wretched  den,  her  little  basket  on  her  arm, 
her  sweet  face  all  flushed,  and  her  eyes  more  than  half-suffused 
with  tears, — the  effect  of  the  keen  morning  wind,  we  suppose. 

"  Law  sakes  alive  !"  was  the  reply,  "  I  ain't  no  how.  I'm 
clear  tuckered  out  with  these  young  'uns.  They've  had  the  agur 
already  this  morning,  and  they're  as  cross  as  bear-cubs." 

"  Ma  !"  screamed  one,  as  if  in  confirmation  of  the  maternal 
remark,  "  I  want  some  tea  !" 

"  Tea !  1  ha'n't  got  no  tea,  and  you  know  that  well  enough !" 

"  Well,  give  me  a  piece  o'  sweetcake  then,  and  a  pickle."' 

"  The  sweetcake  was  gone  long  ago,  and  I  ha'n't  nothing  to 
make  more — so  shut  your  head  !"  And  as  Clarissa  whispered 
to  the  poor  pallid  child  that  she  would  bring  him  some  if  he  would 
be  a  good  boy  and  not  tease  his  mother,  Mrs.  Ashburn  produced, 
from  a  barrel  of  similar  delicacies,  a  yellow  cucumber,  some 
thing  less  than  a  foot  long,  "  pickled"  in  whiskey  and  water — 
and  this  the  child  began  devouring  eagerly. 

Miss  Bensley  now  set  out  upon  the  table  the  varied  contents  of 
her  basket.  "  This  honey,"  she  said,  showing  some  as  limpid  as 
water,  "  was  found  a  day  or  two  ago  in  uncle's  woods — wild  honey 
— isn't  it  beautiful  ?" 

Mrs.  Ashburn  fixed  her  eyes  on  it  without  speaking,  but  hei 
husband,  who  just  then  came  in,  did  not  command  himself  so  far 
"  Where  did  you  say  you  got  that  honey  ?"  he  asked. 


THE  BEE-TREE.  79 


"  In  our  woods,"  repeated  Clarissa  ;  "  I  never  saw  such  quan 
tities;  and  a  good  deal  of  it  as  clear  and  beautiful  as  this." 

"  I  thought  as  much  !"  said  Ashburn  angrily ;  "  and  now, 
Clary  Bensley,"  he  added,  "  you'll  just  take  that  cursed  honey 
back  to  your  uncle,  and  tell  him  to  keep  it,  and  eat  it,  and  I  hope 
it  will  choke  him  !  and  if  I  live,  I'll  make  him  rue  the  day  he 
ever  touched  it." 

Miss  Bensley  gazed  on  him,  lost  in  astonishment.  She  could 
think  of  nothing  but  that  he  must  have  gone  suddenly  mad,  and 
this  idea  made  her  instinctively  hasten  her  steps  toward  the  pony. 

"  Well  !  if  you  won't  take  it,  I'll  send  it  after  ye  !"  cried  Ash- 
burn,  who  had  lashed  himself  into  a  rage ;  and  he  hurled  the 
little  jar,  with  all  the  force  of  his  powerful  arm,  far  down  the  path 
by  which  Clarissa  was  about  to  depart,  while  his  poor  wife  tried 
to  restrain  him  with  a  piteous  "  Oh,  father!  don't !  don't !" 

Then,  recollecting  himself  a  little, — for  he  is  far  from  being 
habitually  brutal, — he  made  an  awkward  apology  to  the  fright 
ened  girl. 

"  I  ha'n't  nothing  agin  you,  Miss  Bensley  ;  you've  always  been 
kind  to  me  and  mine ;  but  that  old  devil  of  an  uncle  of  yours, 
that  can't  bear  to  let  a  poor  man  live, — I'll  larn  him  who  he's  got 
to  deal  with !  Tell  him  to  look  out,  for  he'll  have  reason  !" 

He  held  the  pony  while  Clarissa  mounted,  as  if  to  atone  for  his 
rudeness  to  herself;  but  he  ceased  not  to  repeat  his  denunciations 
against  Mr.  Keene  as  long  as  she  was  within  hearing.  As  she 
paced  over  the  logs,  Ashburn,  his  rage  much  cooled  by  this  ebul 
lition,  stood  looking  after  her. 

"  I  swan  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  if  there  ain't  that  very  feller  that 
went  with  us  to  the  bee-tree,  leading  Clary  Bensley's  horse  over 
the  cross-way  !" 

Clarissa  felt  obliged  to  repeat  to  her  uncle  the  rude  threats 
which  had  so  much  terrified  her  ;  and  it  needed  but  this  to  con 
firm  Mr.  Keene's  suspicious  dislike  of  Ashburn,  whom  he  had 
already  learned  to  regard  as  one  of  the  worst  specimens  of  west, 
ern  character  that  had  yet  crossed  his  path.  He  had  often  felt 
the  vexations  of  his  new  position  to  be  almost  intolerable,  and  was 
disposed  to  imagine  himself  the  predestined  victim  of  all  the  ill- 


80  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

will  and  all  the  impositions  of  the  neighbourhood.  It  unfortu 
nately  happened,  about  this  particular  time,  that  he  had  been 
more  than  usually  visited  with  disasters  which  are  too  common 
in  a  new  country  to  be  much  regarded  by  those  who  know  what 
they  mean.  His  fences  had  been  thrown  down,  his  corn-field 
robbed,  and  even  the  lodging-place  of  the  peacock  forcibly  at 
tempted.  But  from  the  moment  he  discovered  that  Ashburn  had 
a  grudge  against  him,  he  thought  neither  of  unruly  oxen,  mis 
chievous  boys,  nor  exasperated  neighbours,  but  concluded  that  the 
one  unlucky  house  in  the  swamp  was  the  ever-welling  fountain 
of  all  this  bitterness.  He  had  not  yet  been  long  enough  among 
us  to  discern  how  much  our  "  bark  is  waur  than  our  bite." 

And,  more  unfortunate  still,  from  the  date  of  this  unlucky 
morning  call,  (I  have  long  considered  morning  calls  particularly 
unlucky),  the  fair  Clarissa  seemed  to  have  lost  all  her  sprightli- 
ness.  She  shunned  her  usual  haunts,  or  if  she  took  a  walk,  or  a 
short  ride,  she  was  sure  to  return  sadder  than  she  went.  Her 
uncle  noted  the  change  immediately,  but  forbore  to  question  her, 
though  he  pointed  out  the  symptoms  to  his  more  obtuse  lady,  with 
a  request  that  she  would  "  find  out  what  Clary  wanted."  In  the 
performance  of  this  delicate  duly,  Mrs.  Keene  fortunately  limited 
herself  to  the  subjects  of  health  and  new  clothes, — so  that  Clarissa, 
though  at  first  a  little  fluttered,  answered  very  satisfactorily  with 
out  stretching  her  conscience. 

"  Perhaps  it's  young  company,  my  dear,"  continued  the  good 
woman  ;  "  to  be  sure  there's  not  much  of  that  as  yet ;  but  you 

never  seemed  to  care  for  it  when  we  lived  at  L .  You  used 

to  sit  as  contented  over  your  work  or  your  book,  in  the  long  even 
ings,  with  nobody  but  your  uncle  and  me,  and  Charles  Darwin, 
— why  can't  you  now  ?" 

"  So  I  can,  dear  aunt,"  said  Clarissa ;  and  she  spoke  the  truth 
so  warmly  that  her  aunt  was  quite  satisfied. 

It  was  on  a  very  raw  and  gusty  evening,  not  long  after  the 
occurrences  we  have  noted,  that  Mr.  Keene,  with  his  handker 
chief  carefully  wrapped  round  his  chin,  sallied  forth  after  dark, 
on  an  expedition  to  the  post-office.  He  was  thinking  how  vexa 
tious  it  was — how  like  every  thing  else  in  this  disorganized,  or 


THE  BEE-TREE.  81 


rather  unorganized  new  country,  that  the  weekly  mail  should  not 
be  obliged  to  arrive  at  regular  hours,  and  those  early  enough  to 
allow  of  one's  getting  one's  letters  before  dark.  As  he  proceeded 
he  became  aware  of  the  approach  of  two  persons,  and  though  it 
was  too  dark  to  distinguish  faces,  he  heard  distinctly  the  dreaded 
tones  of  Silas  Ashburn. 

"  No  !  I  found  you  were  right  enough  there  !  I  couldn't  get 
at  him  -that  way  ;  but  I'll  pay  him  for  it  yet !" 

He  lost  the  reply  of  the  other  party  in  this  iniquitous  scheme, 
in  the  rushing  of  the  wild  wind  which  hurried  him  on  his  course; 
but  he  had  heard  enough !  He  made  out  to  reach  the  office,  and 
receiving  his  paper,  and  hastening  desperately  homeward,  had 
scarcely  spirits  even  to  read  the  price-current,  (though  he  did 
mechanically  glance  at  that  corner  of  the  "  Trumpet  of  Com 
merce,")  before  he  retired  to  bed  in  meditative  sadness  ;  feeling 
quite  unable  to  await  the  striking  of  nine  on  the  kitchen  clock, 
which,  in  all  ordinary  circumstances,  "  toll'd  the  hour  for  re 
tiring." 

It  is  really  surprising  the  propensity  which  young  people  have 
for  sitting  up  late  !  Here  was  Clarissa  Bensley,  who  was  so  busy 
all  day  that  one  would  have  thought  she  might  be  glad  to  retire 
with  the  chickens, — here  she  was,  sitting  in  her  aunt's  great 
rocking-chair  by  the  remains  of  the  kitchen  fire,  at  almost  ten 
o'clock  at  night !  And  such  a  night  too  !  The  very  roaring  of 
the  wind  was  enough  to  have  affrighted  a  stouter  heart  than  hers, 
yet  she  scarcely  seemed  even  to  hear  it !  And  how  lonely  she 
must  have  been !  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Keene  had  been  gone  an  hour, 
and  in  all  the  range  of  bird-cages  that  lined  the  room,  not  a  feath 
er  was  stirring,  unless  it  might  have  been  the  green  eyebrow  of 
an  old  parrot,  who  was  slily  watching  the  fireside  with  one  optic, 
while  the  other  pretended  to  be  fast  asleep.  And  what  was  old 
Poll  watching?  We  shall  be  obliged  to  tell  tales. 

There  was  another  chair  besides  the  great  rocking-chair, — a 
high-backed  chair  of  the  olden  time  ;  and  this  second  chair  was 
drawn  up  quite  near  the  first,  and  on  the  back  of  the  tall  antiqui 
ty  leaned  a  young  gentleman.  This  must  account  for  Clary's 

7 


WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


not  being  terrified,  and  for  the  shrewd  old  parrot's  staring  so 
knowingly. 

"  I  will  wait  no  longer,"  said  the  stranger,  in  a  low,  but  very 
decided  tone  ;  (and  as  he  speaks,  we  recognise  the  voice  of  the 
young  hunter.)  "  You  are  too  timid,  Clarissa,  and  you  don't  do 
your  uncle  justice.  To  be  sure  he  was  most  unreasonably  angry 
when  we  parted,  and  I  am  ashamed  to  think  that  I  was  angry 
too.  To-morrow  I  will  see  him  and  tell  him  so  ;  and  I  shall  tell 
him  too,  little  trembler,  that  1  have  you  on  my  side  ;  and  we  shall 
see  if  together  we  cannot  persuade  him  to  forget  and  forgive." 

This,  and  much  more  that  we  shall  not  betray,  was  said  by  the 
,all  young  gentleman,  who,  now  that  his  cap  was  off,  showed 
brow  and  eyes  such  as  are  apt  to  go  a  good  way  in  convincing 
young  ladies;  while  Miss  Bensley  seemed  partly  to  acquiesce, 
and  partly  to  cling  to  her  previous  fears  of  her  uncle's  resent 
ment  against  his  former  protege,  which,  first  excited  by  some 
trifling  offence,  had  been  rendered  serious  by  the  pride  of  the 
young  man  and  the  pcpperiness  of  the  old  one. 

When  the  moment  came  which  Clarissa  insisted  should  be  the 
very  last  of  the  stranger's  stay,  some  difficulty  occurred  in  un 
bolting  the  kitchen  door,  and  Miss  Bensley  proceeded  with  her 
guest  through  an  open  passage-way  to  the  front  part  of  the 
house,  when  she  undid  the  front  door,  and  dismissed  him  with  a 
strict  charge  to  tie  up  the  gate  just  as  he  found  it,  lest  some  un 
lucky  chance  should  realize  Mr.  Keene's  fears  of  nocturnal  in 
vasion.  And  we  must  leave  our  perplexed  heroine  standing,  in 
meditative  mood,  candle  in  hand,  in  the  very  centre  of  the  little 
parlour,  which  served  both  for  entrance-hall  and  salon. 

We  have  seen  that  Mr.  Keene's  nerves  had  received  a  terrible 
shock  on  this  fated  evening,  and  it  is  certain  that  for  a  man  of 
sober  imagination,  his  dreams  were  terrific.  He  saw  Ashburn,  cov 
ered  from  crown  to  sole  with  a  buzzing  shroud  of  bees,  trampling 
on  his  flower-beds,  tearing  up  his  honey-suckles  root  and  branch, 
and  letting  his  canaries  and  Java  sparrows  out  of  their  cages  ; 
and,  as  his  eyes  recoiled  from  this  horrible  scene,  they  encoun 
tered  the  shambling  form  of  Joe,  who,  besides  aiding  and  abet- 


THE  BEE-TREE.  83 


ting  in  these  enormities,  was  making  awful  strides,  axe  in  hand, 
toward  the  sanctuary  of  the  pea-fowls. 

He  awoke  with  a  cry  of  horror,  and  found  his  bed-room  full  of 
smoke.  Starting  up  in  agonized  alarm,  he  awoke  Mrs.  Keene, 
and  half-dressed,  by  the  red  light  which  glimmered  around  them, 
they  rushed  together  to  Clarissa's  chamber.  It  was  empty.  To 
find  the  stairs  was  the  next  thought,  but  at  the  very  top  they  met 
the  dreaded  bee-finder  armed  with  a  prodigious  club  ! 

"  Oh  mercy  !  don't  murder  us  !"  shrieked  Mrs.  Keene,  falling 
on  her  knees  ;  while  her  husband,  whose  capsicum  was  com 
pletely  roused,  began  pummelling  Ashburn  as  high  as  he  could 
reach,  bestowing  on  him  at  the  same  time,  in  no  very  choice 
terms,  his  candid  opinion  as  to  the  propriety  of  setting  pejple's 
houses  on  fire,  by  way  of  revenge. 

"  Why,  you're  both  as  crazy  as  loons!"  was  Mr.  Ashburn's 
polite  exclamation,  as  he  held  off  Mr.  Keene  at  arm's  length.  "  I 
was  comin'  up  o'  purpose  to  tell  you  that  you  needn't  be  fright 
ened.  It's  only  the  rufFo'  the  shanty  there, — the  kitchen,  as  you 
call  it." 

"  And  what  have  you  done  with  Clarissa  ?" — "  Ay  !  where's 
my  niece  ?"  cried  the  distracted  pair. 

"  Where  is  she  ?  why,  down  stairs  to  be  sure,  takin'  care  o* 
the  traps  they  throw'd  out  o'  the  shanty.  I  was  out  a  'coon-hunt 
ing,  and  see  the  light,  but  I  was  so  far  off  that  they'd  got  it  pretty 
well  down  before  1  got  here.  That  'ere  young  spark  o'  Clary's 
worked  like  a  beaver,  I  tell  ye  !" 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  one  half  of  Ashburn's  hasty  ex 
planation  "  penetrated  the  interior"  of  his  hearers'  heads.  They 
took  in  the  idea  of  Clary's  safety,  but  as  for  the  rest,  they  con 
cluded  it  only  an  effort  to  mystify  them  as  to  the  real  cause  of 
the  disaster. 

"  You  need  not  attempt,"  solemnly  began  Mr.  Keene,  "  you 
need  not  think  to  make  me  believe,  that  you  are  not  the  man  that 
set  my  house  on  fire.  I  know  your  revengeful  temper ;  I  have 
heard  of  your  threats,  and  you  shall  answer  for  all,  sir!  before 
you're  a  day  older!" 

Ashburn  seemed  struck  dumb,  between  his  involuntary  respect 
for  Mr.  Keene's  age  and  character,  and  the  contemptuous  anger 


84  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

with  which  his  accusations  filled  him.  "  Well  !  I  swan  !"  said 
he  after  a  pause  ;  "  but  here  comes  Clary  ;  she's  got  common 
sense;  ask  her  how  the  fire  happened." 

"  It's  all  over  now,  uncle,"  she  exclaimed,  almost  breathless ; 
"  it  has  not  done  so  very  much  damage." 

"  Damage  !"  said  Mrs.  Keene,  dolefully  ;  "  we  shall  never  get 
things  clean  again  while  the  world  stands !" 

"  And  where  are  my  birds  ?"  inquired  the  old  gentleman. 

"  All  safe — quite  safe ;  we  moved  them  into  the  parlour." 

"  We  !  who,  pray  ?" 

"  Oh  !  the  neighbours  came,  you  know,  uncle  ;  and — Mr. 
Ashburn— " 

"  Give  the  devil  his  due,"  interposed  Ashburn  ;  "  you  know 
very  well  that  the  whole  concern  would  have  gone  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  that  young  feller." 

"  What  young  fellow  ?  where  ?" 

"Why  here,"  said  Silas,  pulling  forward  our  young  stranger  ; 
"  this  here  chap." 

"  Young  man,"  began  Mr.  Keene, — but  at  the  moment,  up 
came  somebody  with  a  light,  and  while  Clarissa  retreated  behind 
Mr.  Ashburn,  the  stranger  was  recognised  by  her  aunt  and  uncle 
as  Charles  Darwin. 

"  Charles  !  what  on  earth  brought  you  here  ?" 

"  Ask  Clary,"  said  Ashburn,  with  grim  jocoseness. 

Mr.  Keene  turned  mechanically  to  obey,  but  Clarissa  had  dis 
appeared. 

"  Well !  I  guess  I  can  tell  you  something  about  it,  if  nobody 
else  won't,"  said  Ashburn  ;  "I'm  something  of  a  Yankee,  and 
it's  my  notion  that  there  was  some  sparkin'  a  goin'  on  in  your 
kitchen,  and  that  somehow  or  other  the  young  folks  managed  to 
set  it  a-fire." 

The  old  folks  looked  more  puzzled  than  ever.  "  Do  speak, 
Charles,"  said  Mr.  Keene ;  "  what  does  it  all  mean  ?  Did  you 
set  my  house  on  fire  ?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  must  have  had  some  hand  in  it,  sir,"  said 
Charles,  whose  self-possession  seemed  quite  to  have  deserted  him. 

"You!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Keene;  "and  I've  been  laying  it  to 
this  man !" 


THE  BEE-TREE. 


"  Yes !  you  know'd  I  owed  you  a  spite,  on  account  o'  that 
plaguy  bee-tree,"  said  Ashburn  ;  "  a  guilty  conscience  needs  no 
accuser.  But  you  was  much  mistaken  if  you  thought  I  was  sich 
a  bloody-minded  villain  as  to  burn  your  girncrackery  for  that ! 
If  I  could  have  paid  you  for  it,  fair  and  even,  I'd  ha'  done  it  with 
all  my  heart  and  soul.  But  I  don't  set  men's  houses  a-fire  when 
I  get  mad  at  'em." 

"  But  you  threatened  vengeance,"  said  Mr.  Keene. 

"  So  I  did,  but  that  was  when  I  expected  to  get  it  by  law, 
though  ;  and  this  here  young  man  knows  that,  if  he'd  only 
speak." 

Thus  adjured,  Charles  did  speak,  and  so  much  to  the  purpose 
that  it  did  not  take  many  minutes  to  convince  Mr.  Keene  that 
Ashburn's  evil-mindedness  was  bounded  by  the  limits  of  the  law, 
that  precious  privilege  of  the  Wolverine.  But  there  was  still  the 
mystery  of  Charles's  apparition,  and  in  order  to  its  full  unravel- 
ment,  the  blushing  Clarissa  had  to  be  enticed  from  her  hiding- 
place,  and  brought  to  confession.  And  then  it  was  made  clear 
that  she,  with  all  her  innocent  looks,  was  the  moving  cause  of 
the  mighty  mischief.  She  it  was  who  encouraged  Charles  to  be 
lieve  that  her  uncle's  anger  would  not  last  for  ever  ;  and  this  had 
led  Charles  to  venture  into  the  neighbourhood  ;  and  it  was  while 
consulting  together,  (on  this  particular  point,  of  course,)  that 
they  managed  to  set  the  kitchen  curtain  on  fire,  and  then — the 
reader  knows  the  rest. 

These  things  occupied  some  time  in  explaining, — but  they 
were  at  length,  by  the  aid  of  words  and  more  eloquent  blushes, 
made  so  clear,  that  Mr.  Keene  concluded,  not  only  to  new  roof 
the  kitchen,  but  to  add  a  very  pretty  wing  to  one  side  of  the  house. 
And  at  the  present  time,  the  steps  of  Charles  Darwin,  when  he 
returns  from  a  surveying  tour,  seek  the  little  gate  as  naturally  as 
if  he  had  never  lived  any  where  else.  And  the  sweet  face  of 
Clarissa  is  always  there,  ready  to  welcome  him,  though  she  still 
finds  plenty  of  time  to  keep  in  order  the  complicated  affairs  of 
both  uncle  and  aunt. 

And  how  goes  life  with  our  friends  the  Ashburns  ?  Mr.  Keene 
has  done  his  very  best  to  atone  for  his  injurious  estimate  of  Wol 
verine  honour,  by  giving  constant  employment  to  Ashburn  and  his 


86  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 

sons,  and  owning  himself  always  the  obliged  party,  without  which 
concession  all  he  could  do  would  avail  nothing.  And  Mrs.  Keene 
and  Clarissa  have  been  unwearied  in  their  kind  attentions  to  the 
family,  supplying  them  with  so  many  comforts  that  most  of  them 
have  got  rid  of  the  ague,  in  spite  of  themselves.  The  house  has 
assumed  so  cheerful  an  appearance  that  I  could  scarcely  recog 
nise  it  for  the  same  squalid  den  it  had  often  made  my  heart  ache 
to  look  upon.  As  I  was  returning  from  my  last  visit  there,  I  en- 
countered  Mr.  Ashburn,  and  remarked  to  him  how  very  comfort- 
able  they  seemed. 

"Yes,"  he  replied;  "I've  had  pretty  good  luck  lately;  but 
I'm  a  goin'  to  pull  up  stakes  and  move  to  Wisconsin.  I  think  I 
can  do  better,  further  West." 


IDLE  PEOPLE.  87 


IDLE    PEOPLE. 


THOSE  who  never  work — those  who  number  among  their  most 
precious  privileges  a  complete  exemption  from  not  only  the  spur 
of  necessity,  but  the  pressure  of  duty — must  find  it  hard  to  be 
lieve  that  there  are  people  in  the  world  whose  destiny  it  seems  to 
be  to  work  all  the  time.  Yet  no — these  are  the  very  beings  who 
think  God  has  so  ordered  the  lot  of  a  portion  of  his  children,  in 
contrast  to  the  all-embracing  beneficence  of  his  providence  in 
other  respects.  These  might  be  called  the  butterflies  of  the  earth, 
if  the  butterfly  was  not  an  established  emblem  of  soul.  Their 
self-complacency  is  much  soothed  by  the  conviction  that  they  are 
Of  "  the  porcelain  clay  of  human  kind,"  and  they  are  thankful — 
or  rather,  glad — that  there  is  a  coarser  race,  to  whom  hard  work 
and  hard  fare  are  well  suited. 

The  fate  of  these  two  divisions  of  mankind  is,  after  all,  much 
more  justly  balanced  than  either  portion  is  apt  to  imagine.  There 
is  a  universal  necessity  for  labour,  and  those  who  obstinately 
close  their  understandings  against  this  fact,  whether  rich  or  poor, 
inevitably  join  the  class  of  sufferers  sooner  or  later.  There  is 
nothing  in  which  what  we  call  fate  is  more  impartial.  The  poor 
are  admonished  by  destitution,  and  the  rich  by  ill  health — the 
mere  idler  by  ennui,  and  the  scheming  sharper  by  disappointment 
and  disgrace.  Yet  this  same  universal  necessity  is  not  more  evi 
dent  than  is  the  undying  effort  to  elude  it.  After  centuries  of 
warning,  the  struggle  still  continues ;  its  energy  sustained  some 
times  by  pride,  sometimes  by  a  downright  love  of  ease,  so  blind 
that  it  looks  no  farther  than  the  present  moment.  Thus  much  of 
the  outer  and  obvious  world — a  theatre  whose  actors,  from  being, 
or  supposing  themselves  to  be,  "  th'  observed  of  all  observers," 
have  fallen  into  many  unnatural  views  and  artificial  habits  of 


88  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

life,  all  tending  to  the  one  darling  end  of  drawing  a  broad  line  of 
distinction  between  themselves  and  the  "  common"  and  the  "  vul 
gar." 

In  these  western  wilds,  where  nature,  scarce  redeemed  from 
primeval  barbarism,  seems  to  demand,  with  an  especial  earnest 
ness,  the  best  aid  of  her  denizens,  and  where  she  pays  with  gold 
every  drop  that  falls  on  her  bosom  from  the  brow  of  labour,  there 
may  be  danger  sometimes,  methinks,  danger  of  falling  into  an 
error  of  an  opposite  character.  There  is  so  much  work  to  be 
done,  and  so  few  people  to  do  it,  that  the  idea  of  labour  is  apt  to 
absorb  the  entire  area  of  the  mind,  to  the  exclusion  of  some  other 
ideas  not  only  useful  but  pleasant  withal,  and  humanizing,  and 
softening,  and  calculated  to  cherish  the  higher  attributes  of  our 
nature.  So  far  is  this  carried  that  idleness  is  emphatically  the 
vice  for  which  public  opinion  reserves  its  severest  frown,  and  in 
whose  behalf  no  voice  ventures  an  apologetic  word.  If  a  man 
drink,  he  may  reform  ;  even  if  he  should  steal,  wo  permit  him  to 
rebuild  his  character  upon  repentance ;  but  if  he  be  lazy,  we 
have  neither  hope  nor  charity. 

Still,  even  among  us,  there  are  those  to  whose  imagination  tlie 
dolcefar  niente  is  irresistible  ;  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  they 
form  a  class  which  is  not  likely  to  raise  the  reputation  of  the 
followers  of  pleasure.  They  have  one  thing  in  common  with 
the  fashionables  of  the  earth — a  determination  to  eschew  every 
conceivable  form  of  labour ;  but,  however  dignified  this  trait 
may  appear  when  set  off  by  an  imposing  hauteur  and  an  elegant 
costume,  it  makes  but  a  sorry  figure  in  the  woods,  where  the  pre 
vailing  tone  is  far  different.  Yet  these  kindred  souls  are  as  in 
corrigible  as  their  betters;  and,  like  them,  will  often  perform  as 
much  labour,  and  exert  as  much  ingenuity  in  avoiding  work,  as 
would,  if  differently  directed,  suffice  to  place  them  in  an  inde 
pendent  and  honourable  position. 

It  must  be  owned  that  this  land  of  hard  work  presents  a  thou 
sand  temptations  to  idleness.  Not  to  mention  the  sacrifice  with 
which  we  begin — the  giving  up  of  all  that  gave  life  a  rosy  or  a 
golden  tint  in  the  older  world — there  may  be  other  excuses  for  a 
longing  after  amusement,  in  minds  of  a  certain  class.  There 
is  an  aspect  of  severe  effort — of  closeness — of  grinding  care  in 


IDLE  PEOPLE.  89 


the  general  constitution  of  society  ;  the  natural  consequence  of 
the  fact  that  poverty,  or  at  least  narrow  circumstances  at  home, 
was  the  impetus  that  drove  nine-tenths  of  the  population  west 
ward  ;  and  this  aspect  being  in  striking  opposition  to  the  free, 
glowing,  and  abundant  one  which  characterizes  unworn  nature 
in  this  scarce-trodden  region,  suggests  and  connects  with  labour  a 
certain  idea  of  slavery — of  confinement ;  and  creates  a  pro 
portionate  desire  for  all  the  liberty  that  so  narrow  a  fate  will  per 
mit.  He  who  possesses  abundant  leisure  for  amusment,  will  per- 
haps  be  heard  to  complain  that  it  is  hard  to  find  ;  but  he  who  is 
every  hour  spurred  on  by  necessity  to  the  most  toilsome  employ 
ments,  cannot  but  snatch  with  delight  every  available  form  of 
recreation  ;  and  will  be  apt  to  devote  to  the  coveted  indulgence 
hours  which  must  be  dearly  purchased  by  the  sufferings  of  the 
future.  Let  us  judge  him  with  a  charity  which  we  may  hardly 
be  disposed  to  exercise  towards  his  prototype  in  high  places. 

So  unpopular,  as  we  have  said,  so  contrary  to  the  prevailing 
spirit,  is  this  desire  for  amusement,  that  those  among  us  who  are 
so  unfortunate  as  to  be  born  with  something  of  a  poetical  tempera 
ment — which  delights  in  quiet  musings,  long  rambles  in  the 
woods,  and  other  forms  of  idleness — generally  disguise  to  them 
selves  and  try  to  disguise  to  others  the  true  nature  of  this  propen 
sity,  by  contriving  many  new  and  ingenious  ways  of  earning 
money,  all  agreeing  in  one  point — a  determined  avoidance  of 
every  thing  that  is  usually  called  work. 

In  the  early  spring  time,  while  a  thin  covering  of  very  fragile 
ice  still  encrusts  the  marshes,  there  may  be  seen  around  their 
borders  a  tangled  fringe  of  seemingly  bare  bushes.  On  nearer 
approach  these  bushes  are  found  stripped  indeed  as  to  their  upper 
branches,  but  garnished  at  the  water's  edge  with  berries  of  the 
brightest  coral,  each  shrined  separately  in  a  little  ring  of  crystal. 
These  are  the  most  delicate  and  highly  prized  cranberries;  mel 
lowed,  not  wilted,  by  the  severest  frosts,  and  now  peeping  through 
their  icy  veil,  and  glowing  in  the  first  warm  rays  of  approaching 
spring. 

These  are  an  irresistible  temptation  to  our  fashionable  of  the 
woods.  Armed  in  boots,  not  seven-leagued,  but  thick  as  the  sev. 
en-fold  shield  of  Ajax,  lie  plunges  into  the  crackling  pool ;  and 


90  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

there,  as  long  as  a  berry  is  to  be  found,  he  stands  or  wades ; 
snatching,  perhaps,  a  shilling's  worth  of  cranberries,  and  a  six 
months'  rheumatism.  No  matter  ;  this  is  not  work. 

You  may  see  him  next,  if  you  are  an  early  riser,  setting  off,  at 
peep  of  dawn,  on  a  fishing  expedition.  He  winds  through  the 
dreary  woods,  yawning  portentously,  and  stretching  as  if  he  were 
emulous  of  the  height  of  the  hickory  trees.  Dexterously  sway, 
ing  his  long  rod,  he  follows  the  little  stream  till  it  is  lost  in  the 
bosom  of  the  woodland  lake  ;  if  unsuccessful  from  the  bank,  he 
seeks  the  frail  skiiF,  which  is  the  common  property  of  laborious 
idlers  like  himself,  and,  pushing  off  shore,  sits  dreaming  under 
the  sun's  wilting  beams,  until  he  has  secured  a  supply  for  the 
day.  Home  again — an  irregular  meal  at  any  time  of  day — and 
he  goes  to  bed  with  the  ague ;  but  he  murmurs  not,  for  fishing  is 
not  work. 

Here  is  a  strawberry  field — well  may  it  claim  the  name  !  It 
is  a  wide  fallow  which  has  been  ploughed  late  in  the  last  autumn, 
and  is  now  lying  in  ridges  to  court  the  fertilizing  sunbeams.  It 
is  already  clothed,  though  scantily,  with  a  luxuriant  growth  of 
fresh  verdure,  and  among,  and  through,  and  over  all,  glows  the 
rich  crimson  of  the  field  strawberry — the  ruby. crowned  queen  of 
all  wild  fruits.  Here — and  who  can  blame  him  ? — will  our  ex 
quisite,  with  wife  and  children,  if  he  be  the  fortunate  proprietor 
of  so  many  fingers,  spend  the  long  June  day  ;  eating  as  many 
berries  as  possible,  and  amassing  in  leafy  baskets  the  rich  re- 
mainder,  to  be  sold  to  the  happy  holders  of  splendid  shillings,  or 
to  dry  in  the  burning  sun  for  next  winter's  "  tea-saase."  Plough 
ing  would  be  more  profitable,  certainly,  but  not  half  so  pleasant, 
for  ploughing  is  work. 

Then  come  the  whortleberries ;  not  the  little,  stunted,  seedy 
things  that  grow  on  dry  uplands  and  sandy  commons;  but  the 
produce  of  towering  bushes  in  the  plashy  meadow  ;  generous, 
pulpy  berries,  covered  with  a  fine  bloom;  the  "blae-berry"  of 
Scotland  ;  a  delicious  fruit,  though  of  humble  reputation,  and,  it 
must  be  confessed,  somewhat  enhanced  in  value  by  the  scarcity 
of  the  more  refined  productions  of  the  garden.  We  scorn 
thee  not,  oh  !  bloom-covered  neighbour  !  but  gladly  buy  whole 
bushels  of  thy  prolific  family  from  the  lounging  Indian,  or  the 


IDLE  PEOPLE.  91 


still  lazier  white  man.  We  must  not  condemn  the  gatherers  of 
whortleberries,  but  it  is  a  melancholy  truth  that  they  do  not  get 
rich. 

Wild  plums  follow  closely  in  the  wake  of  whortleberries,  and 
these  are  usually  picked  when  they  are  so  sour  and  bitter  as  to 
be  totally  uneatable  ;  because  the  rush  for  them  is  so  great, 
among  the  class  alluded  to,  that  each  thinks  nobody  else  will  wait 
for  them  to  ripen  ;  and  whoever  succeeds  in  stripping  all  the  trees 
in  his  neighbourhood,  even  though  he  can  neither  use  nor  sell  a 
particle  of  his  treasure,  deems  himself  the  fortunate  man.  This 
seems  ridiculous,  truly  ;  but  is  it  not  exactly  the  spirit  of  the 
miser  ?  What  matters  whether  the  thing  be  gold  or  green  plums, 
if  they  are  equally  useless  ?  This  blind  haste  to  secure  any 
thing  bearing  the  form  of  fruit,  is  only  an  extreme  exemplification 
of  the  desire  to  snatch  a  precarious  subsistence  from  the  lap  of 
Nature,  instead  of  paying  the  price  which  she  ever  demands  for 
a  due  and  fun  enjoyment  of  her  bounties. 

Baiting  for  wild  bees  beguiles  the  busy  shunner  of  work  into 
many  a  wearisome  tramp,  many  a  night-watch,  and  many  a  lost 
day.  This  is  a  most  fascinating  chase,  and  sometimes  excites  the 
very  spirit  of  gambling.  The  stake  seems  so  small  in  compari 
son  '.vith  the  possible  prize — and  gamblers  and  honey-seekers 
think  all  possible  things  probable — that  some,  who  are  scarcely 
ever  tempted  from  regular  business  by  any  other  disguise  of  idle 
ness,  cannot  withstand  a  bee-hunt.  A  man  whose  arms  and  axe 
are  all-sufficient  to  insure  a  comfortable  livelihood  for  himself  and 
his  family,  is  chopping,  perhaps,  in  a  thick  wood,  where  the  voices 
of  the  locust,  the  cricket,  the  grasshopper,  and  the  wild  bee,  with 
their  kindred,  are  the  only  sounds  that  reach  his  ear  from  sunrise 
till  sunset.  He  feels  lonely  and  listless  ;  and  as  noon  draws  on, 
he  ceases  from  his  hot  toil,  and,  seating  himself  on  the  tree  which 
has  just  fallen  beneath  his  axe,  he  takes  out  his  lunch  of  bread 
and  butter,  and,  musing  as  he  eats,  thinks  how  hard  his  life  is, 
and  how  much  better  it  must  be  to  have  bread  and  butter  without 
working  for  it.  His  eye  wanders  through  the  thick  forest,  and 
follows,  with  a  feeling  of  envy,  the  winged  inhabitants  of  the 
trees  and  flowers,  till  at  length  he  notes  among  the  singing  throng 
some  half  dozen  of  bees. 


92  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


The  lunch  is  soon  despatched  ;  a  honey  tree  must  be  near;  and 
the  chopper  spends  the  remainder  of  the  daylight  in  endeavouring 
to  discover  it.  But  the  cunning  insects  scent  the  human  robber, 
and  will  not  approach  their  home  until  nightfall.  So  our  weary 
vvifrht  plods  homeward  laying  plans  for  their  destruction. 

The  next  morning's  sun,  as  he  peeps  above  the  horizon,  finds 
the  bee-hunter  burning  honey-comb  and  old  honey  near  the  scene 
of  yesterday's  inkling.  Stealthily  does  he  watch  his  line  of  bait, 
and  cautiously  does  he  wait  until  the  first  glutton  that  finds  him 
self  sated  with  the  luscious  feast  sets  off  in  a  "  bee-line" — "  like 
arrow  darting  from  the  bow" — blind  betrayer  of  his  home,  like 
the  human  inebriate.  This  is  enough.  The  spoiler  asks  no 
more;  and  the  first  moonlight  night  sees  the  rich  hoard  transferred 
to  his  cottage  ;  where  it  sometimes  serves,  almost  unaided,  as 
food  for  the  whole  family,  until  the  last  drop  is  consumed.  One 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  honey  are  sometimes  found  in  a  single 
tree,  and  it  must  be  owned  the  temptation  is  great;  but  the  luxury 
is  generally  dearly  purchased,  if  the  whole  cost  and  consequences 
be  counted.  To  be  content  with  what  supplies  the  wants  of  the 
body  for  the  present  moment,  is,  after  all,  the  characteristic  rather 
of  the  brute  than  of  the  man ;  and  a  family  accustomed  to  this 
view  of  life  will  grow  more  and  more  idle  and  thriftless,  until 
poverty  and  filth  and  even  beggary  lose  all  their  terrors.  It  is 
almost  proverbial  among  farmers  that  bee-hunters  are  always 
behindhand. 

Wild  grapes  must  be  left  until  after  the  hard  frosts  have  mel 
lowed  their  pulp  ;  and  the  gathering  of  them  is  not  a  work  of 
much  cost  of  time  or  labour,  since  the  whole  vine  is  taken  down 
at  once,  and  rifled  in  a  few  moments  ;  its  bounteous  clusters  being 
reserved  for  the  ignoble  death  of  a  protracted  withering,  as  they 
hang  on  strings  from  the  smoky  rafters  of  the  log-house. 

Hazel-nuts  are  not  very  abundant,  and  they  must  therefore — 
so  think  our  wiseacres — be  pulled  before  they  are  fit  for  any  thing, 
lest  somebody  else  should  have  the  benefit  of  them.  So  we  seldom 
see  a  full  ripe  hazel-nut.  I  have  had  desperate  thoughts  of  trans 
planting  a  hazel-bush  or  two  ;  but  1  am  assured  it  would  only  be 
buying  Punchinello.  Its  powers  are  gone  when  it  leaves  its 
proper  place. 


IDLE  PEOPLE.  93 

Hickory-nuts  afford  a  most  encouraging  resource.  They  are 
so  plentiful  in  some  seasons  that  one  might  almost  live  on  them ; 
and  then  the  gathering  of  them  is  such  famous  pastime  !  An  oc 
casional  risk  of  life  and  limh  to  be  sure,  but  no  work! 

Hunting  the  deer,  in  forests  which  seem  to  have  been  planted 
to  shelter  him,  and  in  which  he  is  seldom  far  to  seek,  is  a  sort  of 
middle  term — a  something  between  play  and  work — which  is  not 
very  severely  censured  even  by  our  utilitarians.  Venison  is  not 
"  meat,"  to  be  sure,  in  our  parlance  ;  for  we  reserve  that  term 
for  pork,  par  excellence  ;  but  venison  has  some  solid  value,  and 
may  be  salted  and  smoked,  which  seems  to  place  it  among  the 
articles  of  household  thrift.  But  our  better  farmers,  though  they 
may  see  deer-tracks  in  every  direction  round  the  scene  of  their 
daily  rail-splitting,  seldom  hunt,  unless  in  some  degree  debilitated 
by  sickness,  or  from  some  other  cause  incapacitated  for  their 
usual  daily  course  of  downright,  regular  industry.  "  It  is  cheaper 
to  buy  venison  of  the  Indians,"  say  they ;  and  now  that  the 
Indians  are  all  gone,  there  are  white  Indians  enough — white  skins 
with  Indian  tastes  and  habits  under  them — to  make  hunting  a 
business  of  questionable  respectability.  Ere  long  it  will  be  left 
in  the  hands  of  such,  with  an  occasional  exception  in  favour  of 
city  gentlemen  who  wander  into  the  wilds  with  the  hope  of  rebra- 
eing  enervated  frames  by  some  form  of  exercise  which  is  not 
icork. 


94  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


CHANCES   AND    CHANGES; 

OR,   A   CLERICAL    WOOING. 


THIS  disquisition  upon  some  of  the  different  phases  of  that  sweet 
sin — idleness,  has  no  particular  reference  to  the  little  story  that 
follows,  except  so  far  as  it  was  suggested  by  the  subduing  influ 
ences  of  the  delicious  season  at  which  the  incidents  here  related 
are  supposed  to  have  occurred.  It  must  be  a  dry  and  impracti 
cable  mind,  indeed,  that  is  not  filled  to  overflowing  with  the  beau 
ty  of  our  Indian  summer  ;  when  every  winding  valley,  every 
softly  swelling  upland,  in  the  picturesque  "  openings,"  is  clothed 
in  such  colours  as  no  mortal  pencil  can  imitate,  blended  together 
with  such  magical  effect,  that  it  is  as  if  the  most  magnificent  of 
all  sunsets  had  fallen  suddenly  from  heaven  to  earth,  and  lay, 
unchanged,  on  forest,  hill,  and  river.  Not  a  tree,  from  the  al 
most  black  green  of  tamarack  and  hemlock,  to  the  pale  willow 
and  the  flaunting  scarlet  maple,  the  crimson-brown  oak  and  the 
golden  beech — not  a  shrub,  however  insignificant  its  name  or 
homely  its  form  —  but  contributes  to  the  gi  neral  splendour. 
Frequent  showers,  soft  and  silent  as  the  very  mist,  cover  the 
leaves  with  dewy  moisture  ;  and  upon  this  glittering  veil  shines 
out  the  tempered  autumn  sun,  calling  forth  at  once  glowing  hues 
and  nutty  odours,  which  had  been  lost  in  a  drier  and  less  change 
ful  atmosphere.  Low  in  the  bosom  of  almost  every  valley  lies 
either  a  little  lake  ready  to  mirror  back  the  wondrous  pageant, 
or  a  bright  winding  stream,  seldom  musical  here  where  scarce  a 
stone  of  any  size  is  to  be  found,  but  always  crystal  clear,  and 
watched  over  by  bending  willows,  or  parting  to  give  place  to  tiny 
islands  loaded  with  evergreens.  The  sharp  crack  of  the  rifle  or 
fowling-piece  seems  like  sacrilege  in  such  scenes  ;  yet  the  multi- 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  95 


tude  of  wild,  shy,  glancing  creatures,  that  venture  forth  to  enjoy 
the  balmy  air  and  regale  themselves  upon  the  abundance  of  na 
ture  at  this  season,  tempts  into  the  woods  so  many  of  those  to 
whom  the  idea  of  game  is  irresistible,  that  we  must  take  the 
sportsman  with  his  fine  dogs,  his  glittering  gun  and  his  gay  hunt 
ing  gear,  as  part  of  the  picture,  if  we  would  have  it  true  to  the 
life  ;  and  we  cannot  deny  that  he  makes  a  picturesque  adjunct, 
though  we  hate  the  "  barbarous  art"  that  brings  him  to  these 
sweet  solitudes. 

But  not  alone  on  the  wild  wood  and  the  silent  lake  does  the  In 
dian  summer  shed  its  tender  light,  making  beautiful  what  might 
else  have  seemed  rough  and  common-place.  The  harvest  has 
been  nearly  all  gathered,  and  the  ploughing  for  next  year's  crop 
has  made  some  progress,  as  the  deep  rich  brown  of  some  fields 
and  the  plough  itself  slowly  moving  in  others  can  tell  us.  See 
those  unerring  furrows,  those  ridges,  sometimes  curving  a  little 
round  some  lingering  stump,  but  always  parallel,  be  the  area 
ever  so  extensive.  Or  look  yonder,  beyond  the  line  of  crimson 
and  brown  shrubs  that  line  the  rough  fence,  at  the  sower,  pacing 
the  wide  field  with  the  measured  tread  of  the  soldier,  that  each 
spot  may  get  its  due  proportion  of  the  golden  treasure  ;  and 
keeping  exact  time  with  foot  and  hand,  his  own  thoughts  furnish 
ing  his  only  music.  No  hireling  or  giddy  youth  is  entrusted  with 
this  nice  operation.  The  foundation  for  next  year's  riches  is  laid 
by  the  master  himself;  but  you  may  perhaps  see  the  harrow 
which  follows  his  footsteps  attended  only  by  one  of  the  younglings 
of  the  house,  whose  little  hands  wield  the  slender  willow  wand 
which  urges  on  old  Dobbin  ;  and  whose  shrill  piping  tones  are  a 
far  off  imitation  of  the  gruffer  shouting  of  the  elder.  The  adjoin 
ing  field  is  like  a  fairy  camp,  with  its  ranges  of  tent-like  stacks 
of  corn,  and  a  young  maple  left  standing  here  and  there  as  if  on 
purpose  to  supply  the  flaring  red  banners  necessary  to  the  illusion. 
"  Fallows  gray"  are  not  wanting,  to  temper  the  general  gorgeous- 
ness,  nor  parties  of  "  buskers"  to  give  a  human  interest  to  the 
picture.  Here  and  there  a  cluster  of  hay-stacks  of  all  sizes, 
covered  with  roofs  shaped  like  those  of  a  Chinese  pagoda,  give 
quite  an  oriental  touch  ;  while,  close  at  hand,  a  long  shambling 
Yankee  teamster,  coaxing  and  scolding  his  oxen  in  the  most  un- 


9G  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

couth  of  all  possible  voices,  will  recall  the  whereabout,  with  a 
shock,  as  it  were  ;  reminding  one  that  the  prevailing  human  tone 
of  the  region  is  any  thing  but  poetical. 

One  very  striking  feature  in  our  autumn  scenery  is  one  that 
was  undreamed  of  in  the  days  when  people  ventured  to  be  poeti 
cal  upon  rural  themes.  Cowper  sings  with  homely  truth — 

Thump  after  thump  resounds  the  constant  flail, 
That  seems  to  swing  uncertain,  and  yet  falls 
Full  on  the  destin'd  ear.      Wide  Hies  the  chaff, 
The  rustling  straw  sends  up  a  frequent  mist 
Of  atoms  sparkling  in  the  noon-day  beam 

But  he  would  listen  in  vain  for  the  flail  at  the  West,  at  least  du 
ring  the  autumn.  The  threshing-machine  lias  superseded  all 
slower  modes  of  extracting  the  grain  from  the  ear;  and  though  a 
"  machine"  has  a  paltry  sound,  the  operation  of  this  mighty  in 
strument  gives  rise  to  scenes  of  the  greatest  animation  and  inter 
est.  Half  a  dozen  horses  and  all  the  stout  arms  of  the  neigh 
bourhood  are  kept  busy  by  its  requisitions.  One  of  the  more  ac 
tive  youths  climbs  the  tall  stack  to  toss  down  the  sheaves ;  the 
next  hand  cuts  the  "  binder,"  and  passes  the  sheaf  to  the  "  feed 
er,'1  who  throws  it  into  the  monster's  mouth.  Round  goes  the 
cylinder,  at  the  rate  of  several  hundred  revolutions  in  a  minute, 
and  the  sheaf  comes  from  among  the  iron  teeth  completely  crush 
ed  ;  the  grain,  straw,  and  chaff  in  one  mass,  but  entirely  detached 
from  each  other — the  work  of  a  whole  day  of  old-fashioned  thresh 
ing  being  performed  in  a  few  minutes.  Several  persons  are  bu 
sied  in  raking  away  the  straw  from  the  machine  as  rapidly  as 
possible  ;  and  shouts  and  laughter  and  darting  movements  testify 
to  the  excitement  of  the  hour.  A  day  with  the  machine  is  con 
sidered  one  of  the  most  laborious  of  the  whole  season  ;  yet  it  is 
a  favourite  time,  for  it  requires  a  gathering,  which  is  always  the 
signal  for  hilarity  in  the  country. 

So  tremendous  a  power  does  not  work  without  danger  ;  and, 
accordingly,  the  excitement  of  the  occupation  is  heightened  by 
the  fear  of  broken  arms,  dislocated  shoulders,  torn  hands,  and  the 
like — even  death  itself  being  no  unusual  attendant  on  the  thresh- 
ing-machine.  But  no  one  ever  hesitates  to  use  it  on  this  account- 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  97 

since  rail- road  speed  is  as  much  the  foible  of  the  backwoodsman 
as  of  his  civilized  brother.  No  inconsiderable  portion  of  the  grain 
is  wasted  by  this  tearing  process  ;  and  the  straw,  considered  so 
important  by  the  thorough  farmer,  is  rendered  nearly  useless ; 
out  the  lack  of  barns  in  which  to  store  the  grain  for  the  slower 
process  of  threshing,  and  the  desire  to  have  a  great  job  finished 
at  once,  reconciles  the  farmer  to  all  this.  The  birds  profit  by  it 
at  least. 

The  "  making  a  business"  of  marriage,  which  forms  the  nu 
cleus  of  the  following  story,  is  by  no  means  peculiar  to  the  new 
country,  though  it  is  certainly  better  suited  to  a  half  savage  tone 
of  manners,  than  to  society  which  pretends  to  civilization.  Strange 
to  say,  marriages  contracted  without  any  previous  acquaintance 
between  the  parties,  are  almost  confined  to  a  class  wbich,  of  all 
others,  is  bound  to  teach  the  sacredness  of  the  tie.  For  such  to 
treat  marriage  as  a  mere  business  contract,  without  the  least 
reference  to  the  undivided  and  exclusive  affection  which  alone 
can  make  it  holy  and  ennobling,  is  indeed  a  marvel  ;  and  I  trust 
that  so  coarse  a  form  of  utilitarianism  may  become  less  and  less 
popular  among  us.  If  I  appear  to  have  done  any  thing  in  the 
following  little  sketch  calculated  to  make  the  practice  seem  less 
revolting,  let  it  be  ascribed  to  the  state  of  society  in  which  the 
circumstances  are  supposed  to  have  occurred.  Among  isolated 
and  uneducated  people,  we  may  tolerate  what  should  be  held  un 
pardonable  where  greater  advantages  and  greater  pretensions  en 
title  us  to  look  for  a  higher  degree  of  refinement. 

3 


98  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Let  India  boast  her  groves,  nor  envy  we 
The  weeping  amber  and  the  balmy  tree. 

THESE  western  colonies,  gatherings  as  they  are  from  the  four 
corners  of  the  earth,  of  people  whose  manners,  habits,  and  ideas 
are  various  as  their  origin,  present  a  thousand  little  oddities  of 
custom  and  character,  sometimes  amusing  and  sometimes  vexa 
tious  enough  to  the  looker-on,  whose  own  peculiarities  afford  in 
turn  their  share  of  marvel  and  diversion.  The  Yankee  smiles 
when  the  Scotsman  asks  for  "a  few  o'  they  molasses"  for  his 
cake;  the  Scot  stares  in  his  turn  when  the  man  of  Connecticut 
calls  that  cake  a  "griddle"  or  a  "slap-jack."  The  Englishman 
describes  gravely  a  machine  which  is  to  be  "  perpelled  bv  the 
hair;"  and  the  Maineman  who  indulges  a  joke  at  his  expense 
will  talk  the  next  moment  of  his  "  ca-ow,"  which,  with  an  inde 
scribable  twang,  he  will  declare  to  be  "the  beaterrnost  critter  un 
der  the  canopy."  And  in  actions  as  well  as  words — in  modes  as 
well  as  manners — is  this  variety  constantly  presenting  itself. 
We  may  sec  glimpses  of  half  our  United  States  within  the  com- 
pass  of  a  school-district.  We  may  travel  without  stirring  from  the 
cottage  fireside,  and,  in  one  sense,  (not  the  poet's,) 

"  Run  the  great  cycle,  and  be  still  at  home." 

An  odd  affair  which  occurred  last  autumn  within  our  bounds 
gave  rise  to  these  reflections,  though  perhaps  the  critical  reader 
may  decide  that  the  association  is  not  a  very  obvious  one.  A 
slenuer  thread  serves  sometimes  to  string  female  reveries,  and  it 
is  doubtless  best  they  should  not  aim  too  much  at  "  consecution 
of  discourse,"  lest  they  be  accused  of  lecturing.  I  shall  toll  my 
little  story  "  promiscuous  like,"  claiming  my  feminine  privilege. 

The  occasion  was  a  nutting-party — a  regularly  planned  and 
numerously  attended  expedition  in  search  of  hickory-nuts ;  a  cold- 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  99 

blooded  conspiracy  against  the  domestic  comfort  of  the  squirrels, 
whose  despairing  sighs  probably  swelled  the  soft  southern  breeze 
which  we  enjoyed  so  thoughtlessly.  But  this  nutting  is  a  won 
drous  pleasant  kind  of  laborious  idleness.  Leaving  out  of  view 
the  desirableness  of  the  spoil — forgetting  the  talk-promoting  influ 
ence  of  a  dish  of  well-cracked  nuts  placed  on  the  little  tatle  before 
the  fire  at  Christmas-tide,  or  in  some  bitter  evening  in  February, 
when  the  snapping  and  cracking  of  the  more  distant  articles  of 
furniture  tell  of  the  struggle  between  the  frosty  influences  without 
and  the  glowing  warmth  within, — the  gathering  is  a  toil  to  be 
coveted  for  its  own  sake.  It  is  a  mode  of  getting  at  the  very  es 
sence  and  heart  of  a  delicious  autumn  day,  when  the  misty  air 
glows  with  an  indistinct  diffusion  of  sunlight,  so  softened  and  so 
universal  that  we  can  scarce  point  out  the  spot  whence  it  ema 
nates,  and  all  the  tints  of  earth  are  blended  and  neutralized  into 
a  perfect  harmony  with  this  enchanting  atmosphere.  Green  is 
almost  or  quite  gone  ;  scarlet  has  sobered  into  crimson,  and  that 
again  into  a  golden  brown.  The  leaves  still  hang  in  isolated 
clusters  upon  the  oaks,  dry,  and  rustling  ever  and  anon  with  a 
melancholy,  sighing  music  ;  but  the  hickory  trees  stretch  their 
long  branches  and  lift  their  lofty  heads,  denuded  of  every  thing 
but  their  fragrant  fruit,  which,  looked  at  from  below,  dwindles 
to  the  size  of  dots  on  the  rich  sky. 

This  is'  the  time,  of  all  others,  for  long  rambles  ;  and  when 
October  brings  it  round,  we  moralizers  upon  the  thriftless  and  va 
grant  habits  of  certain  of  our  neighbours,  are  disposed  to  be  at 
least  as  idle  as  the  idlest,  and  think  no  day  better,  or  at  least  more 
delightfully  spent,  than  that  on  which  we  repair  to  a  strip  of  un 
touched  forest  land  a  mile  or  two  from  our  village,  and  there 
waste  the  short  afternoon  in  such  sport  as  fascinates  the  truant 
schoolboy,  until  the  declining  sun,  and  the  chilly  breeze  of  ap 
proaching  night,  warn  us  off,  tired  trespassers  upon  nature's  blest 
domain.  Is  it  possible  any  body  ever  had  the  heart  to  whip  a 
truant  boy  in  such  weather,  when  the  forest  was  accessible  ? 

Oh  !  the  pleasures  of  the  cart  ride,  even  with  its  unfailing  ac 
companiment  of  shrieks  of  pretty  terror,  as  the  patient  oxen  draw 
us  up  and  down  and  sidling  through  hills  on  whose  impracticable 
roughness  no  horses  could  be  trusted  !  Then  comes  the  racing 


100  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

search  after  the  oldest  trees,  which  are  always  supposed  to  prom- 
ise  the  largest  nuts,  and  then  the  scramble  when  some  strong  arm 
shakes  down  a  rattling  shower  on  the  unequal  floor  formed  around 
the  foot  of  the  tree  by  means  of  shawls  and  cloaks  and  buffalo- 
robes,  spread  on  the  ground  lest  the  thick  bed  of  leaves  should  hide 
the  falling  treasure.  Many  is  the  wild  shout  of  youthful  glee 
when  some  older  or  less  accustomed  face  is  unwarily  turned  up- 
ward  for  a  moment  to  ask  another  shower,  and  receives,  perchance, 
a  billeted  bullet  on  the  tip  of  its  nose.  And  not  a  little  consoling 
is  required  by  the  infant  heroes  upon  whom  the  bounties  of  au 
tumn  descend  too  copiously,  administering  more  and  harder 
thumps  than  their  green  philosophy  has  yet  been  trained  to  en 
dure. 

These  frolics  are  not  without  their  perils,  howevei,  and  those 
more  serious  than  a  bruised  nose  or  a  thumped  shoulder  ;  and 
the  especial  nut-gathering  of  which  I  began  to  tell,  will,  I  am 
sure,  be  long  remembered  by  all  concerned,  though  perhaps  for 
very  various  reasons. 


II. 

Ye  list  to  the  songs  of  the  same  forest  bird, 
Your  own  merry  music  together  is  heard : 
Nor  can  Echo,  sweet  sisters !  amid  the  rocks  tell 
Your  voices  apart  in  her  moss-covered  cell. 

OUR  party  was  a  large  one,  and  as  merry  as  it  was  large. 
Three  great  wagons,  drawn  by  oxen,  were  our  vehicles  ;  and 
into  these  were  crammed  as  many  giggling  girls  as  possible,  with 
a  few  older  heads  by  way  of  ballast.  Three  stout  farmers  went 
along,  to  shout  at  the  teams,  and  to  pilot  us  safely  over  hill  and 
hollow — no  sinecure,  as  I  before  hinted.  These  were  to  officiate 
also  as  shakers  or  pounders  ;  for,  be  it  known,  whenever  the  at 
tendants  on  these  occasions  are  too  old  or  too  lazy  to  climb,  they 
make  their  services  effectual  by  upheaving  great  stones,  which 
they  throw  against  the  tree  with  main  force,  producing  concus 
sions  which  might  bring  down  toppling  cliffs,  let  alone  hickory- 
nuts.  Our  friends,  Haw  and  Gee,  were  of  the  order  of  the  ele- 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  101 


phant,  and  could  not  be  induced  to  climb  ;  but  they  were  admirable 
pounders,  and  we  were  soon  well  pelted  with  nuts,  and  busily  en 
gaged  in  freeing  them  from  their  aromatic  wrappers — an  opera 
tion  which  we  of  the  West  call  "  shucking." 

Among  our  bright-eyed  company  were  the  twin-daughters  of  a 
worthy  neighbour  of  ours,  generally  known  among  the  villagers 
by  the  title  of  Deacon  Lightbody,  though  I  believe  he  has  not 
any  other  clain  to  the  dignity  than  that  which  rests  upon  a  par 
ticularly  grave  face,  and  a  devoted  attention  to  the  secular  af 
fairs  of  his  church.  He  always  makes  the  fire  in  the  meeting 
house — sees  to  the  sweeping  and  lighting — asks  the  minister  to 
dinner — hands  up  all  notices — turns  out  the  dogs  that  sometimes 
intrude  during  service — and  does  all  necessary  frowning  and 
head-shaking  at  the  unlucky  urchins  who  laugh  when  the  said 
dogs  howl  just  outside  the  door.  All  this  Mr.  Lightbody  does, 
not  for  the  lucre  of  gain,  but  from  pure  love  of  what  he  calls  the 
"  good  cause,"  though  I  doubt  he  deceives  himself  a  little  as  to 
the  catholicity  of  his  regard  for  religion.  Yet  he  declares  he 
does  try  to  have  charity  for  those  who  do  not  think  as  he  does  in 
matters  of  faith,  though  it  is  certain  that  no  Christian  can  object 
to  any  of  his  favourite  doctrines,  since  they  are  Bible  truths  and 
nothing  else.  We  must  leave  the  worthy  deacon  to  reconcile 
these  incongruities,  as  they  have  no  immediate  bearing  on  our 
little  story,  and  were  introduced  solely  for  the  purpose  of  making 
our  reader  acquainted  with  Mr.  Lightbody 's  turn  of  mind. 

Those  twin-daughters  of  his  were  "  as  like  as  two  peas " — 
sweet  peas — or  pea  blossoms  rather.  Such  cloudless  azure  eyes 
— such  diaphanous  complexions — such  dimpling  roses  and  such 
sunny  hair  !  If  one  should  undertake  to  describe  them,  no 
thing  but  superlatives  would  do.  Yet  their  hands  had  handled 
the  churn-dasher  too  often  to  be  very  satiny  in  the  palm,  and 
their  feet,  having  never  been  coaxed  into  shoes  of  the  size  and 
shape  of  a  scissors-sheath,  were  unfashionably  well-proportioned. 
Charming  fairies  were  they,  nevertheless,  and  wonderfully  alike, 
yet  with  a  difference,  perceptible  enough  to  their  intimates.  Ruth 
was  the  demure  fairy — Elsie  the  tricksy  sprite.  Ruth  was  born  a 
careful,  tidy  housewife  ;  Elsie  an  incorrigible  shatter-brain.  Ruth 
never  did  wrong,  while  Elsie  had  to  atone  for  all  sorts  of  offences 


102  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 

against  good  order  and  good  government  twenty  times  a  day.  Yet 
she  made  up  so  sweetly,  and  was  withal  so  kind  and  loving,  that 
her  father,  who  meant  to  be  considered  a  stern  stickler  for  family 
discipline,  could  seldom  find  it  in  his  heart  to  scold  her  for  her 
faults,  except  when  she  laughed  in  meeting,  which  always  cost 
her  a  laborious  pacification. 

These  two  lilies  of  the  valley  were  arrayed  in  white,  as  was 
meet :  Ruth's  ribands  being  lilac,  and  Elsie's  pale  green,  for  the 
convenience  of  being  known  apart.  As  an  offset  to  their  wood- 
nymph  costume,  we  had  Miss  Cotgrave  in  a  purple  silk,  with  her 
coal-black  locks  brought  down  to  her  chin,  and  then  wound  round 
her  large  ears,  and  a  pinch-back  brooch  by  way  of  ferroniere. 
Then  there  was  Ellen  Shirley,  prepared  for  a  game  at  her  dearly 
beloved  romps,  wisely  preferring  a  pink  gingham  dress  to  any  sort 
of  finery  ;  and  Patty  Chandler  grasping  her  great  basket  and 
staring  silently  with  round  eyes,  seemingly  full  of  nothing  but 
anxiety  lest  she  should  not  manage  to  secure  her  share  of  the 
spoils.  These,  with  half  a  dozen  or  more  of  little  folks,  who 
were  any  thing  but  personnages  muels,  made  up  our  "  load,"  and 
the  other  vehicles  carried  crews  neither  less  numerous  nor  less 
noisy. 

The  young  ladies  talked  and  laughed  moderately,  for  there 
were  no  beaux  ;  and  Miss  Cotgrave  said  she  rejoiced  that  it  was 
so,  for  she  did  hate  to  have  a  parcel  of  young  men  hanging  about 


III. 

These  arms 
Invite  the  chain,  this  naked  breast  the  steel. 

IT  could  not  have  been  long  after  we  left  the  village  that  two 
sober-looking  individuals,  drest  in  comely  and  reverend  black, 
greeted  the  pleased  eyes  of  Deacon  Lightbody  as  he  stood  at  his 
own  door,  looking  at  the  meeting-house,  (as  was  his  habit,)  and 
noting  the  curious  effect  of  the  level  beams  of  the  afternoon  sun, 
which  shone  through  and  through  the  little  building,  making  it 
glow  like  a  lantern.  Light  brought  warmth  to  mind,  and  the 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  103 

deacon,  by  a  natural  transition,  began  thinking  that  the  very  next 
week  he  must  bestir  himself  and  get  up  a  "  bee  "  to  bank  up  his 
beloved  meeting-house. 

Are  there  any  of  my  readers  so  benighted  as  not  to  take  the 
sense  of  this  home-bred  phrase  ?  Then  I  must  stop  to  tell  them 
that  a  "  bee"  is  a  collection  of  volunteers  who  agree  to  meet  at 
some  specified  time  to  accomplish  any  object  of  public  or  pri 
vate  utility  which  requires  the  concurrence  of  numbers.  And 
"  banking  up  "  is  a  service  rendered  very  necessary  by  the  se 
verity  of  our  winters  and  the  slightness  of  our  dwellings,  and 
consists  in  piling  earth  round  the  foundations,  so  as  to  prevent  the 
frosty  winds  from  intruding  below  the  floor.  All  this  has  nothing 
at  all  to  do  with  our  important  history,  but  is  merely  a  private 
hint  for  the  enlightenment  of  the  unlearned. 

The  deacon,  then,  was  devising  liberal  things  for  the  good  of 
his  dear  meeting-house,  when  the  two  suits  of  black,  with  faces 
to  correspond,  (not  to  match,)  crossed  his  line  of  vision  and  brought 
a  pleased  expression  into  his  solemn  countenance.  The  gentle 
men  alighted,  and  proved  to  be — one  a  church-officer  from  a 
neighbouring  town,  and  the  other  a  young  clergyman,  who  being 
just  come  there,  and  likely  to  officiate  within  our  bounds  occasion 
ally,  was  an  object  of  the  first  interest  to  Mr.  Lightbody. 

After  a  short  prelude,  Mr.  Poppleton,  the  elder  gentleman, 
began.  "  I  called,  Mr.  Lightbody,  to  introduce  this  reverend  gen 
tleman  to  your  acquaintance." 

Mr.  Lightbody  shook  hands,  and  then  shook  hands  again,  and 
asked  the  gentlemen  to  walk  in. 

Mr.  Poppleton,  with  a  somewhat  impatient  wave  of  the  hand, 
as  much  as  to  say  he  had  come  on  business,  and  had  no  time  for 
ceremony,  proceeded  in  his  speech. 

"  This  gentleman,  sir,  is  Mr.  Hammond, — the  reverend  Mr. 
Hammond,  sir — who  is  going  to  be  with  us  for  a  spell,  and  per 
haps  longer — and  as  he  thinks  some  of  settling  at  the  West,  he 
judges  it  best,  and  so  do  we  all — that  he  should  take  a  wife,  and 
so  keep  house,  for  you  know  it  isn't  pleasant  for  a  minister  to  be 
boarding  round.  And  he  has  been  recommended — " 

The  young  man  upon  this  turned,  Deacon  Lightbody  says,  "  as 
red  as  a  fire-coal,"  (as  well  he  might,)  and  stammered  out  some- 


104  WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 

tiling  about  his  having  heard  that  Mr.  Lightbody  had  two  daugh 
ters.  "  Why,  yes,  sir — yes, — 1  have  so" — said  the  deacon — a 
snug  parsonage  appearing  at  the  end  of  a  short  vista  in  his  imagi 
nation — "  I  have  so — and  the  neighbours  do  say  that  they  are 
pretty  likely  girls — but  walk  in — walk  in  ;"  and  the  guests  were 
ushered  in  with  reverential  alacrity. 

In  the  "  keepin-room"  they  found  Mrs.  Lightbody,  with  her 
hearth  scrupulously  swept  and  her  white  apron  shining  with 
cleanliness,  and  her  fair  hair  most  primly  arranged  under  a 
transparent  cap,  which  was  yet  not  so  clear  as  her  complexion. 
The  ceremony  of  introduction  having  been  repeated,  Mr.  Popple- 
ton,  with  very  little  circumlocution,  gave  Mrs.  Lightbody  to 
understand  the  especial  purport  of  the  visit. 

The  good  lady  shared  her  husband's  reverence  for  all  that 
belonged  to  the  church,  but  she  was  a  woman  and  a  mother,  and 
she  coloured  deeply, — almost  painfully,  at  this  abrupt  reference 
to  the  disposal  of  a  daughter.  But  Mr.  Poppleton  had  come  on 
business,  and  he  knew  only  one  way  of  doing  it ;  and  Mr.  Ham 
mond  said  but  little,  having,  indeed,  but  little  opportunity.  After 
some  ineffectual  attempts,  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  firmly  on  the 
floor  while  his  mouth-piece  set  forth  his  claims  and  enlarged  upon 
his  plans  and  prospects. 

In  Mr.  Lightbody's  mind,  however,  all  was  sunshine.  To  have 
a  minister  for  a  son-in-law,  was  all  that  his  ambition  coveted ; 
and  to  do  the  candidate  justice,  his  countenance  and  manner, — 
setting  aside  the  unmanageable  awkwardness  of  his  present  posi 
tion — were  much  in  his  favour. 

"  As  far  as  I'm  concerned,"  said  Mr.  Lightbody  in  winding  up 
the  conference,  "as  far  as  I'm  concerned,  I'm  perfectly  agree 
able.  I  give  my  consent,  and  I  dare  say  Miss  Lightbody  won't 
say  no — you  can  take  your  choice — airy  one  of  'em — airy  one  of 
'em — that  is — if  they  are  agreeable,  you  know  !  I  shouldn't  put 
any  force  upon  'ern,  nor  over-persuade  'em — but  if  they're  agree 
able  I  am !" 

Thus  encouraged,  the  principal  and  his  double  took  leave,  in 
spite  of  pressing  invitations  to  stay  tea.  They  were  on  their 
way  to  some  convocation  of  their  order,  and  were  to  call  as  they 
returned.  But  meanwhile,  as  their  way  onward  lay  near  the 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  105 

nutting-ground,  Mr.  Hammond  suggested  that  it  might  not  be 
amiss  to  make  some  small  tarry  in  that  vicinity.  Perhaps  he 
thought  his  choice  need  not  be  restricted  to  the  deacon's  fair  twins 
—or  perhaps — but  they  came — saw — 


IV. 

Alive,  I  would  be  loved  of  one — 
I  would  be  wept  when  I  am  gone. 

IN  the  midst — the  very  acme — of  our  frolic,  when  Ruth  was 
swinging  in  a  grape-vine  which  had  been  slung  so  conveniently 
by  the  freakish  hand  of  Nature  that  it  needed  very  little  aid  from 
man, — and  Elsie,  shrieking  like  a  Banshee,  was  flying  through 
the  dry  leaves,  pursued  by  Patty  Chandler,  whose  basket  she  had 
mischievously  abstracted — this  was  the  time,  of  all  others,  when 
the  two  sober-looking  horsemen  rode  up  the  hillside  and  presented 
themselves  to  the  view  of  our  abashed  damsels,  who  had  forgotten 
that  there  were  any  grave  people  in  the  world.  A  wet  blanket ! 
and  all  our  fire  was  extinguished  accordingly.  Every  body  fell 
to  picking  up  nuts  with  an  air  of  conscious  delinquency. 

Mr.  Poppleton  was  acquainted  with  most  of  the  party,  and  gave 
his  companion  a  general  introduction ;  singling  out  Ruth  and 
Elsie,  however,  and  endeavouring,  by  sundry  not  very  far-sought 
questions,  to  make  them  shine  out  for  Mr.  Hammond's  encour 
agement,  just  as  we  pat  and  coax  a  shy  horse  when  we  wish  to 
show  his  paces  to  advantage.  But  the  twins  were  more  than 
shy,  and  could  not  be  brought  to  say  any  thing  but  yes  and  no,  so 
that  Mr.  Poppleton,  discouraged  by  the  result  of  this  his  first 
effort  at  a  more  diplomatic  mode  of  proceeding,  fairly  called  them 
aside,  leaving  Mr.  Hammond  staring  and  unprotected  among  a 
parcel  of  giddy  girls. 

The  reverend  youth  had  no  long  trial,  however,  for  it  was  but 
a  moment  before  Mr.  Poppleton  returned,  and  with  a  grave  sigh 
beckoned  him  away. 

It  took  us  a  good  while  to  find  the  fair  sisters,  and  when  they 
did  show  themselves,  Ruth  looked  primmer  than  ever,  and  Elsie 


IOC  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

had  certainly  been  shedding  tears,  though  her  face  gave  us  no 
small  reason  to  suspect  they  had  been  tears  of  laughter. 

"  What  did  Mr.  Poppleton  want  ?"  was  the  question  of  half  a 
dozen  pairs  of  lips. 

"  Who  is  that  handsome  young  man  ?  Is  he  a  minister  ?" 
asked  not  a  few. 

The  answers  to  these  questions  were  very  vague.  Ruth,  and 
even  Elsie  seemed  seized  with  a  fit  of  the  silents,  and  conjecture 
was  left  to  float  wide  and  pick  up  all  sorts  of  things. 

"  I'll  tell  you  !"  said  Miss  Cotgrave,  whose  thoughts  were  a 
good  deal  turned  towards  matrimony,  "  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  ! 
1  see  it  all  now  !  Old  Pop  is  looking  for  a  wife  for  that  young 
man.  He  always  takes  care  of  the  young  ministers,  and  he's 
been  to  Deacon  Lightbody's  to  speak  for  one  of  his  girls  !" 

The  truth  thus  blurted  out  was  almost  too  much  for  the  heroines 
of  Mr.  Poppleton's  anti-romance.  They  blushed,  they  laughed, 
they  made  up  all  sorts  of  improbable  stories,  and  to  escape  from 
the  storm  of  raillery,  began  seeking  for  nuts  with  renewed  in 
dustry. 

"  How  provoking  that  we  have  no  one  to  climb  the  trees  !" 
said  Elsie  ;  "  the  nuts  hang  on  the  upper  boughs  after  all  the 
shaking !"  and  at  the  word,  the  best  climber  in  the  country  was 
at  her  elbow. 

Joe  Fenton,  a  son  of  the  forest,  dark-eyed  and  ruddy-cheeked, 
and  withal  slender  and  elastic  as  a  willow  wand,  had  long  been 
suspected  of  a  bashful  liking  for  Elsie,  and  yet  no  one, — not  even 
Miss  Cotgrave, — had  ever  been  able  to  ascertain  whether  there 
had  actually  been  any  "  love-passages"  between  them  or  not. 
The  principal  ground  for  any  suspicion  of  partiality  on  the  side 
of  the  young  lady  was  an  over-scrupulous  avoidance  of  Master 
Fenton  upon  every  occasion.  This,  Miss  Cotgrave  says,  is  "  a 
sure  sign." 

Joe  had  been  ploughing  in  a  neighbouring  field,  (Burns  has 
made  ploughing  glorious,  ()  gentle  reader  !)  and  hearing  the  mer 
ry  shouts  of  the  nut-gatherers,  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to 
come  and  see  if  his  help  was  not  needed. 

"  Oh  !  climb  the  tree,  Joe  !"  said  the  little  folks,  for  the  grown 
damsels  were  somewhat  ceremonious,  although  Joe  was  in  his 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  107 

every-day  clothes,  and  did  not  look  half  the  beau  he  appears  on 
Sundays  and  high  occasions. 

Not  another  word  was  needed,  and  it  was  scarcely  a  moment 
before  Joe  was  poised  on  a  bough  which  it  made  one  dizzy  to  look 
up  at.  Down  came  the  pelting  showers  on  all  sides,  and  we 
were  fain  to  run  away  until  the  rain  had  ceased  from  the  ex 
hausted  condition  of  the  reservoirs.  .  Baskets  were  filled,  and 
bags  were  brought  from  the  wagons.  Another  and  another  tree 
did  young  Fenton  climb,  and  with  equal  success,  until  Miss  Cot- 
grave,  in  pursuing  her  running  changes  upon  her  favourite 
theme,  inflicted  a  cruel  pinch  upon  Ruth's  arm,  asking  her 
whether  the  young  parson  was  in  treaty  for  herself  or  her  sister. 

A  scream  from  Ruth  at  the  moment  when  Fenton  was  making 
a  perilous  transit  from  one  branch  to  another,  caused  him  to  miss 
his  hold,  and  the  next  instant  he  lay  on  the  ground  at  her  feet — 
dead,  as  we  all  supposed.  His  lips  were  colourless,  and  his 
breathing  had  ceased  entirely. 

It  were  vain  to  tell  of  the  consternation,  the  distress  which  fol 
lowed.  Ruth's  grief  was  terrific.  The  poor  girl,  feeling  that 
she  had  been  the  cause,  though  innocently,  of  this  sad  accident, 
hung  over  him,  wringing  her  hands  in  helpless  anguish,  beseech 
ing  him  to  open  his  eyes  and  speak  to  her,  and  this  in  tones 
which  could  hardly  fail  to  awaken  life  if  a  glimmering  remained. 

We  had  begun  to  despair  of  the  success  of  the  simple  remedies 
which  were  within  our  reach  when  a  deep-drawn  sigh  from  the  suf 
ferer  relieved  us.  As  one  of  the  company  observed,  "  The  minute 
he  ketch'd  his  breath,  his  cheeks  begun  to  look  streaked,"  and  the 
red  streaks  soon  overpowered  the  white  ones.  Our  efforts  were 
now  renewed,  and  Ruth — the  prim,  the  demure  Ruth, — trans 
ported  beyond  herself  by  the  first  violent  emotion  she"  had  ever 
experienced,  was  as  profuse  in  her  exclamations  of  hope  and  joy, 
as  she  had  before  been  in  those  of  agonizing  self-reproach.  It  was 
at  this  moment  that  Elsie  made  her  appearance  for  the  first  time 
since  the  accident.  She  was  pale,  but  most  of  us  were  so,  and 
no  one  seemed  so  little  inclined  to  assist  in  recovering  poor  Joe's 
scattered  senses. 

"  La  !"  said  Miss  Cotgrave,  "  if  nobody  had  cared  any  more 


108  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 

about  Joe  Fenton  than  you  did,  Elsie,  he  might  have  been  dead 
by  this  time !" 

Joe  turned  his  opening  eyes  full  upon  Elsie. 

"  Are  you  much  hurt  ?"  she  inquired,  with  an  indifferent  air. 
Ruth  replied  for  him,  with  a  most  eloquent  exposition  of  the  dan 
ger,  and  the  terror,  and  the  joy  ;  but  Elsie  turned  away  as  if  she 
had  not  heard  the  words.  . 

We  got  our  patient  into  a  wagon  by  the  aid  of  our  stout  team 
sters  ;  we  had  him  bled  when  we  reached  home,  and  he  felt  al 
most  well  before  bed-time, — well  bodily,  we  mean,  for  Elsie's 
coldness  had  found  a  very  sensitive  spot  in  his  heart,  and  the 
poor  boy  could  hardly  think  of  it  without  shivering. 


V. 


What  wicked  and  dissembling  glass  of  mine 
Made  me  compare  with  Hennia's  sphery  eyne  ? 

IN  two  days  Joe  Fenton's  lithe  limbs  were  as  active  as  ever, 
but  the  bleeding  had  done  nothing  for  the  blow  on  his  heart.  He 
had  never,  we  are  assured,  told  his  love  to  Elsie,  but  he  thought 
she  knew  all  about  it,  and  now  to  be  treated  in  this  killing  sort  of 
way  !  It  was  plain  that  he  must  have  deceived  himself  entirely; 
and,  lacking  courage  to  encounter  Elsie's  frigid  looks  again,  he 
resolved  to  make  Ruth  the  confidant  of  his  troubles,  and  to  en 
gage  her  good  offices  with  her  less  approachable  sister. 

As  to  his  shy  Doris,  she  had  been  gloomy  and  reserved  with 
her  sister,  but  more  than  once  closeted  with  Miss  Cotgrave,  who 
had  made  her  several  long  calls.  Calls  are  sometimes  very  useful 
in  enlightening  us  as  to  the  character  and  intentions  of  particular 
friends  who  do  not  happen  to  be  present,  and  Miss  Cotgrave  was 
conscientiously  anxious  to  disabuse  Elsie's  mind  on  the  subject  of 
Fenton's  attachment.  For  this  benevolent  purpose,  the  occur 
rence  in  the  wood  afforded  excellent  material.  Elsie,  who  had 
witnessed  the  accident  from  a  distance,  was  at  first  unable  to 
move  toward  the  spot,  and  afterward  deterred  by  some  pangs  of 
maidenly  jealousy  awakened  by  the  passionate  grief  of  her  sister. 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  109 


We  do  not  like  that  others  should  display  too  much  interest  in 
those  who  ought  to  love  us  and  us  only  ;  and  the  instinctive  feel 
ing  of  resentment  is  apt  to  extend  itself  even  to  the  objects  of 
such  impertinent  affection.  So  poor  Elsie,  whose  brain  was  none 
of  the  clearest  after  that  unhappy  tumble,  came  at  once  to  the 
conclusion  that  she  must  either  have  been  deceived  throughout, 
or  that  her  young  admirer  had  proved  inconstant ;  and  her  unea 
siness  took  the  form  of  high  displeasure  at  both  parties  concerned, 
with  some  share  of  the  same  feeling  towards  all  the  rest  of  the 
world,  including  her  own  silly  self. 

Fenton  knocked  at  Mr.  Lightbody's  door,  and  Elsie  ran  and  hid 
herself  in  the  garden.  Here  she  shed  tears  enough  to  have  wa 
tered  a  heavier  sorrow,  and  in  the  very  tempest  of  her  passion  she 
saw  her  false  love  and  her  cruel  sister  going  out  as  for  a  walk, 
engaged  in  earnest  conversation.  The  thing  was  certain,  and 
the  blue  eyes  were  proudly  dried — to  be  swimming  again  the  very 
next  moment. 

"  Elsie  !  Elsie  !"  It  was  her  father's  voice  ;  and  summoning 
new  resolution,  she  wiped  away  the  intrusive  tears  and  hastened 
to  the  house.  In  the  keepin-roorn  she  encountered  Mr.  Poppleton 
and  his  youthful  reverend.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lightbody  sat  by,  but 
Mr.  Poppleton  was  again  the  spokesman. 

"  Which  of  you  is  it?"  asked  the  good  man  after  brief  saluta 
tion  to  the  April-faced  maiden  ;  then  checking  himself,  he  added, 
"  But  that  isn't  it — are  you  the  one  that  had  the  green  string 
around  her  neck  t'other  day  ?  That  was  the  one  we  wanted." 

Elsie  answered  mechanically,  "  Yes." 

"  Why  you  don't  look  so  chirk  as  you  did  then.  You  ain't 
sick,  be  ye  ?" 

This  brought  a  mechanical  "  No." 

"  Oh  !  only  a  little  peakin,  eh  !  Well  !  now  you  see,  we've 
come  on  particular  business.  Mr.  Hammond  stands  in  need  of  a 
helpmate  ;  and  after  consulting  with  his  friends,  and  also  getting 
the  consent  and  good- will  of  your  honoured  father,  he  wishes  to 
know  if  you  could  be  agreeable  to  undertake  the  journey  of  life 
with  him, — that  is,  if  you  think  you  could  pitch  upon  him  for  a 
husband  ?" 

"  Mr.  Poppleton,"  began  the  blushing  Mr.  Hammond,  as  soon 


110  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


as  he  could  edge  in  a  word,  "  you  embarrass  the  young  lady,  sir  ! 
Allow  me  a  few  minutes'  conversation — " 

"  Mr.  Hammond,"  rejoined  the  elder,  with  rather  a  severe  air, 
"  missionaries  and  missionaries'  wives  must  not  be  fancy-led  like 
the  vain  world.  This  young  woman  has  been  well  brought  up, 
and  showed  her  duty  in  all  things,  and  now  the  only  question 
seems  to  me  to  be,  whether  she  can  make  up  her  mind  to  renounce 
vanity  and  folly,  and  spend  the  rest  of  her  life  in  doing  good." 
And  upon  this  text  spoke  Mr.  Poppleton  for  something  like  half 
an  hour,  aided  very  warmly  now  and  then  by  Mr.  Lightbody, 
but  uninterrupted  by  any  body  else.  His  discourse  had  so  much 
the  air  of  a  sermon  that  it  would  have  seemed  impertinent, — so 
Mr.  Hammond  thought,  we  dare  say, — to  have  attempted  to  refute 
or  modify  any  of  its  positions.  Even  a  sermon  must  have  an  end, 
however,  and  when  the  orator  had  gone  over  and  over,  and  round 
and  round  the  subject  till  lie  felt  satisfied  with  his  exposition  of  it, 
he  turned  to  Mrs.  Lightbody  with  a  very  complacent,  "Well, 
ma'am,  what  do  you,  say  ?" 

Mrs.  Lightbody  remembered,  though  she  did  not  tell,  that  sho 
had  for  some  time  past  observed  certain  almost  intangible  indica 
tions  of  a  liking  for  somebody  else,  and  she  therefore  referred  the 
matter  to  Elsie  herself,  only  observing  that  a  good  minister's  wife 
was  a  great  blessing  to  the  people. 

What  was  her  surprise  when  Elsie,  who  had  been  gazing  out 
of  the  window,  turned  suddenly  to  her  father,  and  gave  an  un 
conditional,  and  almost  impetuous  consent. 

"Why,  Elsie!"  said  Mrs.  Lightbody. 

"  She's  right !"  said  the  deacon,  rubbing  his  hands. 

"  I  hope  she'll  be  a  burning" — began  Mr.  PoppUton.  But  Mr. 
Hammond,  looking  at  the  agitated  countenance  of  the  beautiful 
girl,  motioned  to  his  ally  to  cease,  and  taking  her  hand  desired 
her  to  compose  herself,  saying,  stiffly  enough,  but  yet  kindly, 
that  he  would  give  her  no  further  trouble  at  present,  but  would 
call  again  in  a  day  or  two. 

And  with  the  usual  adieux  these  odd  negotiators  departed. 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  Ill 


VI. 


Kissing  the  lips  of  unacquainted  change. 

THAT  very  evening,  when  the  two  fair  sisters  retired  to  their 
chamber,  did  Ruth,  drawing  encouragement  from  Elsie's  tear- 
stained  cheeks,  open  her  mission — how  different  from  the  other ! 

It  was  a  tale  of  such  passionate  protestation — such  humble 
suing, — on  the  part  of  the  hero  of  the  hickory-nutting — that  Elsie, 
stung  with  compunction  for  her  blind  precipitancy,  called  and 
thought  herself  the  most  wretched  of  human  beings ;  and  almost 
frightened  her  more  placid  sister  by  the  vehemence  of  her  sorrow. 
Fenton  loved  her  then,  after  all ;  and  she — what  had  she  done  ! 
"  Why,  Elsie,  dear !"  said  the  soft- voiced  Ruth,  as  the  stricken- 
hearted  girl  sobbed  upon  her  bosom,  "  what  can  be  the  matter  ? 
I  used  to  think  you  liked  Joe  Fenton — " 

"  Oh  !  Ruth  !  [  have  promised — promised  that  odious  old  Pop- 
pleton — that  hateful  young  minister," — and  here  tears  stopped 
the  sad  story. 

"  Promised  what,  dear  ?"  said  Ruth,  who  was  a  matter-of-fact 
little  body. 

"  Oh  !  promised  to  be  a  missionary — to  go  and  live  in  the  woods 
— to  marry  that — oh  dear !  oh  dear  !" 

"  To  marry  that  young  clergyman !  Why,  Elsie !  how  can 
you  call  him  hateful !  He  is  as  much  handsomer  than  Joe  Fenton 
as—" 

"  Handsome !  I  don't  care  for  his  being  handsome  !  I  hate 
him  !  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  him  !  Oh  !  that  miserable  nut 
ting  !"  And  her  tears  poured  afresh. 

Ruth  sat  in  musing  silence.  She  could  not  find  it  in  her  heart 
to  condole  with  her  sister  upon  the  prospect  of  becoming  the  help 
meet  of  so  attractive  a  missionary ;  and  she  was  unconsciously 
balancing  in  her  own  mind  the  various  points  of  difference  be 
tween  Mr.  Hammond  and  Joe  Fenton,  when  Elsie  suddenly  start 
ed  up. 

"  Ruth  !  why  won't  you  take  him  yourself?" 


H2  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

"I !"  said  Ruth,  bridling  up  a  little,  "  why,  because  he  has  not 

asked  me !" 

"  Oh  !  but — dear,  dear  sister — you  know  we  are  so  much  alike 
that  strangers  never  can  tell  us  apart.  Now  do !  there's  a  dar 
ling  good  girl !  do  save  me  from  all  this  misery  !  I  can  never 
love  him— I  shall  hate  him — and  that  will  be  so  wicked  for  a  mis 
sionary's  wife !" 

Ruth  shook  her  head  very  discouragingly.  She  could  not  think 
of  offering  herself,  even  to  a  minister. 

"  Ah  !  but  you  know,  Mr.  Poppleton  only  asked  for  the  one  that 
wore  the  green  riband,  and  if  you  would  just  change  with  me, 
nobody  would  know  the  difference  except  father  and  mother ;  and 
they  would  not  tell.  Oh  !  Ruth,  if  you  love  me  one  bit  you  can't 
refuse !  You  are  just  the  very  thing  for  a  minister's  wife  !  so 
much  better  than  poor  me  !  Dear,  dear  Ruth — won't  you  ?  You 
have  never  loved  any  body  else ;  and  I'm  sure  this  young  minis 
ter  is  good  as  well  as  handsome.  You  don't  know  how  kindly  he 
spoke  to  me," — and  Elsie  stopt  for  want  of  breath. 

"  You  said  just  now  that  he  was  hateful,"  said  Ruth,  with  her 
most  demure  air. 

"  Ah !  but  I  was  thinking  of  poor  Joe,  then — I  mean  I  was 
thinking  how  he  loved  me — you  told  me  yourself,  you  know — oh  ! 
I  should  be  so  miserable — but  I  never  will  marry  him,  and  then 
father  will  be  so  angry !"  And  with  a  profusion  of  tears  and 
kisses  she  besought  her  sister  to  say  yes,  but  in  vain.  All  that 
Ruth  could  be  brought  to  promise  was,  that  she  would  talk  to  her 
father  and  mother  about  it,  though  she  could  scarcely  withstand 
the  sobs  which  continued  to  burst  from  Elsie's  heart  long  after 
she  had  fallen  asleep. 

Upon  consulting  with  the  higher  powers,  Mrs.  Lightbody  was 
soon  persuaded  into  thinking  with  Elsie,  that  if  Ruth  would  take 
her  place,  the  young  minister  would  never  observe  the  differ 
ence  ;  but  Mr.  Lightbody  had  the  dignity  of  the  cloth  too  much  at 
heart  to  allow  of  this  attempt  at  deception.  He  persisted  in  his 
opinion  that  since  Elsie  had  made  an  engagement,  she  ought  cer 
tainly  to  fulfil  it. 

"  And  let  Fenton  take  Ruth,  if  he's  a  mind  to,"  concluded  the 
old  gentleman  with  his  peculiarly  solemn  air.  "  Joe's  a  good 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  113 


young  man,  and  he's  got  a  good  farm  too — that  is — he  will  have 
when  it's  cleared  up — and  Ruth  will  likely  have  a  sight  more  of 
worldly  goods  than  Elsie,  though  she  won't  have  a  minister,  to  be 
sure — I  hold  that  a  young  woman  that's  got  a  minister  hasn't  got 
much  to  wish  for." 

"  But,  father,"  said  Elsie,  who  was  almost  writhing  under  this 
business-like  estimate  of  the  matter, — "  what  will  poor  Joe  say  ?" 

"  Say  !  why  that's  pretty  good  !  Didn't  you  tell  me  just  now 
that  the  reverend  Mr.  Hammond  would  just  as  leave  marry  one 
as  the  other  ?  Is  Joe  Fenton  to  set  up  to  be  more  difficult  than  a 
minister,  I  should  like  to  know  ?" 

Yet  Elsie  did  not  desist  in  despair.  She  was  accustomed  to 
victory  upon  easier  terms,  it  is  true,  but  she  spared  neither  tears 
nor  coaxing  until  she  brought  her  father  to  a  compromise. 

It  was  agreed  that  when  Mr.  Hammond  paid  the  critical  visit 
both  sisters  should  wear  green  ribands,  and  let  the  young  divine 
make  a  choice,  which  was  to  be  considered  final. 


VII. 


Say  that  but  once  I  see  a  beauteous  star, 
I  may  forget  it  for  another  star. 

THE  toilet  of  youth  and  beauty  ought  never  to  cost  much  time, 
and  the  ordinary  costume  of  the  fair  twins  was  simpler  than  the 
simplest ;  yet  the  reverend  Mr.  Hammond  had  been  in  the  par 
lour  for  a  long  nervous  half  hour,  and  Mr.  Lightbody  had  given 
several  Blue-Beard-like  calls  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  before  Ruth 
and  Elsie  made  their  appearance  on  the  day  of  destiny.  The 
interval  had  been  spent  in  the  most  minute  and  anxious  compari 
son  of  every  several  ringlet — every  article  of  dress — and  partic 
ularly  every  knot  and  wave  of  the  talismanic  green  riband. 
When  all  was  done  they  could  scarce  be  sure  each  of  her  own 
blushing  image  in  the  mirror,  so  perfect  was  the  resemblance. 

"  But  oh  !  dear,  dear  Ruth  !"  said  Elsie,  "  I  am  so  afraid  you 
will  not  be  able  to  speak  like  me  !  Do  try  to  be  a  little  wild  and 


114  WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 


saucy !  I  fear  that  will  betray  us,  after  all.  I  can  be  as  still  as 
you,  but  you  will  not  talk,  I  know  !" 

"  I  will  do  my  best,  since  I  have  promised,"  said  Ruth,  with 
a  sigh  ;  "  but  oh  !  Elsie,  if  you  were  not  such  a  dear,  good  sis 
ter—" 

"  Oh  !  come,  come — don't  let  us  wait  a  moment  longer !  There 
is  father  calling  again  !"  And  she  hurried  her  sister  along  till 
they  stood  in  the  dreaded  presence. 

Mr.  Hammond,  who  had  fortunately  or  wisely  left  his  Achates 
at  home  this  time,  arose  to  receive  the  fair  sisters  as  they  entered 
the  room  side  by  side.  He  cast  his  eyes  wonderingly  from  one  to 
the  other,  and  finding  himself  totally  at  a  loss,  gravely  resumed 
his- seat  with  an  air  of  painful  embarrassment.  It  might  embar 
rass  a  bolder  man  to  find  that  he  could  not  tell  his  betrothed 
"  from  any  other  true-love." 

"  Which  of  these  young  ladies  have  I  seen  before  ?"  said  he  at 
last,  with  straightforward  simplicity. 

"  You  have  seen  us  both !"  exclaimed  Elsie  hastily. 

The  young  man  smiled,  very  quietly,  and  at  once  drew  his 
chair  near  Elsie's,  with  so  evident  a  recognition  of  the  voice  and 
manner  that  the  poor  child  had  much  ado  to  restrain  her  tears. 
She  looked  imploringly  at  Ruth,  but  Ruth  could  do  nothing  but 
blush,  and  the  catastrophe  seemed  inevitable,  when  Miss  Cotgrave 
came  sailing  into  the  room. 

She  made  her  best  and  most  sweeping  courtesy  to  the  young 
minister,  and  cast  a  very  searching  glance  at  our  two  agitated 
damsels.  The  young  lady's  eye  was  more  than  piercing — it  was 
screwing — yet  it  was  at  fault  now.  Mr.  Hammond  was  thrown 
out  too,  for  in  the  process  of  receiving  the  new  guest,  Ruth  and 
Elsie  had  changed  their  places,  and  Elsie,  warned  by  past  mis 
chance,  was  resolutely  silent. 

"  Dear  !  how  dark  you  do  keep  your  room,  Mrs.  Lightbody," 
said  Miss  Cotgrave,  who,  being  intuitively  aware  of  a  matrimo 
nial  cloud  in  the  horizon,  was  determined  to  have  more  light  on 
the  subject.  "  I  declare,  coming  in  out  of  the  light  I  can  scarcely 
see  any  body  !" 

"  The  western  sun  shone  in  so  dazzling" — Mrs.  Lightbody  said. 
But  Miss  Cotgrave  was  not  so  to  be  baffled. 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  115 

"  Do  you  like  the  fashionable  style  of  dark  rooms,  sir  ?"  said 
she,  appealing  to  Mr.  Lightbody. 

Fashion  !  at  Deacon  Lightbody's  !  The  word  "  dance"  did 
not  galvanize  douce  Davie  Deans  more  severely  than  did  this 
unlucky  term  our  worthy  friend. 

"  No,  indeed  !"  he  exclaimed,  with  solemn  earnestness ;  and  in 
less  than  half  a  minute  he  had  conscientiously  withdrawn  every 
curtain  and  thrown  wide  every  blind,  letting  in  the  whole  crimson 
flood  of  a  gorgeous  sunset,  and  adding  an  angelic  radiance  to  the 
beautiful  faces  of  his  daughters. 

"  Why,  Ruth  !  I  didn't  know  you  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Cotgrave  ; 
"  you  and  Elsie  are  more  like  each  other  than  you  are  like  your 
selves  !"  Then  in  a  lower  tone  to  Elsie — "  Poor  Joe  Fenton's 
shot,  eh  !" 

A  trained  belle  in  a  "  fashionable"  boudoir  could  not  have 
fainted  more  gracefully  than  did  our  simple  Elsie  at  these  words. 
All  was  flutter,  as  is  usual  on  such  occasions,  and  nobody  was 
half  so  frightened  as  poor  Miss  Cotgrave. 

"  Mercy  on  us  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  I  wasn't  in  earnest — I 
only  meant  that  he  had  got  the  bag  to  hold  !  Elsie,  Elsie  !  don't ! 
I  was  only  joking  because  you  had  given  him  the  mitten  !" 

During  the  time  occupied  in  giving  voice  to  these  choice  figures 
of  speech,  Elsie's  scattered  wits  had  been  recalled  by  the  abun 
dant  aid  of  cold  water,  and  when  she  seemed  quite  recovered, 
Miss  Cotgrave  took  her  leave,  a  good  deal  mortified  by  the  awk 
ward  result  of  her  humorous  effort,  yet  overjoyed  to  have  come 
into  possession  of  a  secret,  and  above  all,  anxious  to  get  somebody 
to  help  her  keep  it. 

The  young  divine  had  stood  gravely  aloof  during  this  scene. 
Inexperienced  as  he  was  in  the  matter  of  female  whims,  he  was 
not  yet  so  blind  as  to  need  telling  that  emotion,  and  not  the  illness 
which  Elsie  tried  to  pretend,  had  in  reality  caused  her  swoon. 
So,  like  a  good  and  sensible  Timothy  as  he  was,  he  took  the 
readiest  and  simplest  way  to  relieve  his  gathering  perplexities. 

"  Father !"  said  he,  approaching  Mr.  Lightbody,  who  sat 
twirling  his  thumbs  in  a  paroxysm  of  fidgets  at  Elsie's  perverse- 
ness,  "  you  have  kindly  consented  to  entrust  me  with  one  of  your 
daughters,  and  I  had  hoped  that  the  one  I  had  the  pleasure  of 


116  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

seeing  here  before,  was  disposed  to  listen  to  me  with  some  degree 
of  favour.  If  this  is  so,  if  the  young  lady  does  feel  willing  to 
undertake  the  toils  and  hardships  of  a  missionary  life — will  you 
yourself  bestow  her  upon  me  ?  for  I  confess  that  the  wonderful 
resemblance  between  them  leaves  me  entirely  at  a  loss." 

Mr.  Lightbody  gave  a  deep  hem  !  sensibly  relieved. 

"  Come  here,  Ruth,  my  dear  !"  said  he,  drawing  the  blushing 
damsel  to  him  very  gently,  and  with  a  manifest  softening  of  the 
aspect  which  he  usually  considered  becoming  ;  "  come  here  and 
tell  your  father  if  you  think  you  could  learn  to  be  happy  with  this 
reverend  gentleman,"  (his  reverence  was  three-and-twenty,)  "  and 
whether  you  are  willing  to  make  the  sacrifices  that  a  minister's 
wife  must  make  in  this  new  country,  and  devote  yourself  to  the 
service  of  religion  and  the  advancement  of  sound  doctrine  ?"  He 
paused  for  a  reply,  but  none  came.  Perhaps  Ruth  was  thinking 
over  these  sacrifices,  which  form  a  standard  topic  on  these  occa 
sions,  though  they  are  not,  practically,  very  obvious,  especially 
to  people  who  have  been  accustomed  to  a  country  life. 

Taking  silence  for  assent,  her  father  placed  her  passive  hand 
in  that  of  Mr.  Hammond,  and  pronounced  an  emphatic  blessing 
on  them  both.  And,  when  this  was  done,  her  mother  embraced 
her,  and  murmured  in  her  ear  some  words  of  exhortation  or 
encouragement,  and  then  gave  place  to  Elsie,  who,  after  her  own 
manner,  kissed  and  cried,  and  whispered  her  thanks  and  blessings. 
And  then  the  minister,  whose  views  did  not  seem  to  accord  in  all 
respects  with  Mr.  Poppleton's,  (that  gentleman  would  probably 
have  judged  it  superfluous  to  remain  after  the  business  was  set 
tled,)  drew  his  gentle^ncee  to  the  garden-door,  and  thence  into 
the  garden,  though  it  was  already  twilight,  and  there  contrived  to 
make  her  understand  his  plans  and  prospects  much  better  than  he 
could  have  done  by  proxy,  even  though  that  proxy  had  been  Mr. 
Poppleton. 

It  was  after  they  had  vanished,  that  our  hero  of  the  nutting- 
party  made  his  appearance  upon  the  lapis,  having  been  inspired 
by  Miss  Cotgrave  with  an  irresistible  desire  to  know  what  was 
really  going  on  at  Deacon  Lightbody 's.  He  could  hardly  have 
"  happened  in"  at  a  more  fortunate  juncture.  Elsie,  to  be  sure, 
was  "  weeping-ripe,"  but  the  awful  deacon  was  walking  the  floor 


CHANCES  AND  CHANGES.  117 

in  a  most  complacent  humour,  and  Mrs.  Lightbody's  mild  eyes 
seemed  to  beam  with  unusual  kindness. 

Master  Fenton  was  a  man  of  few  words,  but  those  which  he 
mustered  for  this  occasion  were  very  much  to  the  purpose  ;  and 
if  Mr.  Lightbody  did  not  experience  the  same  swelling  of  the 
heart  as  when  he  bestowed  Ruth  upon  a  minister,  he  gave  his 
darling  Elsie  to  the  young  farmer  with  very  good  will,  and  a 
blessing  which  came  warm  from  the  heart. 

There  was  not  a  second  garden  for  Fenton  and  Elsie,  but  they 
were  old  acquaintance  j  and,  as  the  evening  closed  in,  Mr.  Light- 
body  rang  the  bell  for  family  worship,  and  then,  in  the  midst  of 
happy  hearts,  reverently  returned  thanks  for  the  manifold  bless 
ings  of  his  earthly  lot. 

Mr.  Hammond  is  fortunately  settled  in  our  neighbourhood,  for 
the  present  at  least ;  and  he  has  the  ueatest  little  cottage  in  the 
wood,  standing  too  under  a  very  tall  oak,  which  bends  kindly 
over  it,  looking  like  the  Princess  Glumdalclitch  inclining  her  ear 
to  the  box  which  contained  her  pet  Gulliver.  This  cottage  pos 
sesses  among  its  recommendations  that  of  being  at  the  extremity 
of  a  charming  walk  through  the  forest,  and  this  circumstance 
makes  it  especially  precious  to  Elsie  and  Fenton,  who  are  very 
attentive  to  the  dominie's  lady.  Farmers  cannot  marry  so  speedily 
as  ministers,  but  after  next  spring's  business  is  finished,  we  shall, 
may  be,  have  another  wedding  to  record. 


118  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 


AMBUSCADES. 


"  Loves 's  not  a  flower  that  grows  on  the  dull  earth  ; 
Springs  by  the  calendar — must  wait  for  sun — 
For  rain — matures  by  parts — must  take  its  time 
To  stem — to  leaf — to  bud — to  blow  ;  it  owns 
A  richer  soil  and  boasts  a  quicker  seed." 

J.  SHERIDAN  KNOWLES. 

TOM  OLIVER  is  the  hero  of  my  story,  and  there  is  almost 
enough  of  him  to  make  two  drawing-room  heroes.  Tom  is  long, 
and  strong,  and  lithe  enough  to  stand  for  a  Kentucky  Apollo;  and 
in  his  fringed  hunting-shirt,  with  rifle  in  hand,  and  a  dashing 
'coon-skin  cap  overshadowing  his  dark  eyes,  he  is  no  bad  person 
ification  of  the  Genius  of  the  West.  And  this  is  paying  the  West 
a  great  compliment ;  for  there  is  a  wild  grace  and  beauty  about 
Tom's  whole  appearance  that  is  not  to  be  found  everywhere. 

I  know  not  whether  it  would  be  safe  to  say  that  Tom  has  made 
his  "hands  hard  with  labour,"  for  he  is  not  particularly  fond  of 
work ;  but  I  may  say  he  has  made  his  "  heart  soft  with  pity,"  for 
a  gentler  nature  lives  not.  Daring  hunter  as  he  is,  he  has  found 
time  to  be  the  most  dutiful  of  sons;  and  from  his  boyhood  he  was 
the  sole  support  and  comfort  of  a  widowed  mother.  She  depend 
ed  upon  him  as  if  their  relation  had  been  reversed,  and  when  the 
poor  soul  came  to  die,  she  could  bear  no  hand  near  her  but  his. 
Night  and  day  did  lie  watch  by  her  bedside,  and  the  kind  offices 
of  the  neighbouring  matrons  came  no  nearer  than  the  preparation 
of  such  things  as  Tom  required  for  his  nursing.  His  hand  ad 
ministered  the  remedies,  and  offered  the  draught  to  the  parched  lip, 
and  smoothed  the  pillows,  and  fanned  the  fainting  brow.  And 
when  the  last  dread  moment  came,  the  same  kind  and  dear  hand 
was  clasped  in  the  chill  embrace  of  the  dying,  and  afterwards 


AMBUSCADES.  119 


closed  with  pious  care  the  eyes  that  had  so  long. looked  upon  him 
with  more  than  a  mother's  love.  Then  and  long  afterwards, 
Tom  mourned  for  his  poor  old  mother  as  if  she  had  been  a  youth 
ful  bride.  He  has  a  kind  heart. 

Tom's  passion  was  hunting ;  and  although  this  had  been  duti 
fully  restrained  while  his  mother  required  his  services,  when  she 
was  gone  he  found  relief  in  indulging  it  to  the  uttermost.  Whole 
weeks  would  he  be  absent,  and  at  length  return  with  only  the 
skins  of  the  deer  and  other  animals  that  he  had  killed,  and  perhaps 
a  small  supply  of  food  for  an  interval  of  rest.  So  expert  was  he 
in  woodcraft  that  this  course  secured  him  all  that  his  simple  mode 
of  life  required.  The  cottage  that  had  been  his  mother's  home 
continued  to  be  his ;  and  the  "  forty"  on  which  it  stood  was  called 
his  farm,  though  I  believe  the  deer  roamed  as  freely  there  as  any 
where  else  in  the  forest.  He  has  shot  foxes  and  raccoons  from 
his  window.  Yet  he  was  accounted  rich,  for  his  log  house  was  a 
good  one  and  better  furnished  than  most ;  and  he  had  planted  fruit 
and  made  various  improvements  for  his  mother's  sake,  which  he 
would  have  been  slow  in  making  for  his  own  ;  and,  besides,  he  was 
known  for  so  able  and  ingenious  a  "  hand"  that  his  services  were 
much  in  request,  and  always  commanded  the  highest  price  in  the 
market.  Such  is  our  primitive  estimate  of  the  elements  of  world 
ly  success,  that  Tom,  take  him  all  in  all,  was  considered  quite  a 
speculation  in  the  matrimonial  way. 

But  a  roving  hunter  is  no  mark  for  "  the  blind  boy's  butt- 
shaft."  Our  damsels  might  have  saved  themselves  the  trouble 
of  curling  their  beau-killers,  and  slipping  off  their  aprons  as  he 
approached.  He  never  seemed  to  see  them  ;  but  inquired,  "  Pol 
ly,  where's  your  father  ?"  or  "  Abby,  does  your  mother  want 
some  venison  ?"  without  taking  off  his  cap  or  putting  down  his 
rifle.  The  girls  had  well  nigh  given  him  up  as  a  hopeless  case 
before  he  announced  his  intention  of  travelling  to  see  the  world  ; 
and,  when  this  was  known,  it  was  guessed  by  shrewd  mothers 
that  Tom  meant  to  bring  home  a  more  "  stylish"  bride  than  any 
which  our  humble  bounds  afforded. 

Tom  went  first  to  "  York  State" — that  being  the  natural  bent 
and  limit  of  our  travels — and  after  having  been  absent  only 
about  three  weeks,  he  came  back  to  his  own  house  very  compo- 


120  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

sedly  during  a  viplent  storm,  and  got  ready  to  go  hunting  again. 
Neighbours  felt  a  good  deal  of  curiosity  to  learn  what  had  sent 
him  back  so  soon,  but  he  only  said  the  East  was  not  what  it  was 
cracked  up  to  be,  and  went  on  his  old  course.  Ere  long  he  was 
missing  again,  and  no  one  could  tell  anything  of  his  intentions, 
or  of  the  probable  length  of  his  absence.  His  nearest  neighbour 
took  care  of  his  cow  and  pigs,  for  every  one  liked  to  do  Tom  a  good 
turn  ;  and  nobody  broke  his  windows  or  pulled  the  shingles  off  his 
roof  to  make  fishing-lights  or  quail-traps,  because  he  might  come 
back  any  day,  and  would  not  be  likely  to  "  impeticos"  such  gra 
tuities  very  kindly.  The  whole  long  winter  passed,  and  nothing 
was  seen  or  heard  of  Tom  Oliver. 

During  this  time,  an  event  of  unwonted  importance  gave  a  stir 
to  our  village — nothing  less  than  the  addition  of  two  new  families, 
and  those  not  of  a  stamp  likely  to  slip  unnoticed  into  so  small  a 
community.  Widows  guided  them  both,  and  each  boasted  a 
young  lady ;  but  if  the  mistresses  might  be  cited  in  proof  that 
the  genus  "  vidder"  has  many  varieties,  so  no  less  might  we 
quote  damsels  as  specimens  of  the  distinct  orders  that  are  observ 
able  in  young  ladyhood. 

Mrs.  Levering  was  a  thrifty  dame,  with  one  grown  up  son  and 
ever  so  many  little  ones,  and  one  only  daughter,  a  lovely  girl  of 
seventeen  or  so,  who  wrought  day  and  night  with  the  patience  of 
the  gentle  Griselidis,  and  seemed  to  feel  that  she  was  but  labouring 
in  her  vocation.  Her  mother,  a  most  devout  believer  in  the  law 
ful  supremacy  of  the  stronger  sex,  had  brought  up  Emma  to 
think  that  she  was  born  to  work  for  "  the  boys ;"  and  so  potent  is 
habit,  that  the  young  girl,  fair  as  she  was,  and  worthy  of  a  softer 
lot,  had  never  learned  to  wish  it  otherwise.  A  plain  house  plain 
ly  furnished,  and  a  moderate  farm  moderately  stocked,  formed 
the  little  all  of  the  Leverings ;  and  so  completely  were  their  time 
and  attention  absorbed  by  the  cares  of  life,  that  Emma  and  her 
mother  did  not  join  the  sewing  society,  nor  the  young  man  the 
hunting  parties  which  alone  constituted  the  winter's  gayety.  Yet 
everybody  liked  Emma,  and  many  a  wish  was  expressed  that  she 
would  let  her  rosy  cheeks  be  seen  "  somewhere  else  besides  in 
the  meetin'-house." 

The  other  lady  was  a  more  marked  person  than  any  of  the 


AMBUSCADES.  121 


Leverings.  Mrs.  Purfle,  widow  of  the  celebrated  Doctor  Purfle, 
who  performed  so  many  cures — time  and  place  not  specified — of 
diseases  both  before  and  since  considered  incurable — was  some 
what  past  her  prime,  indeed  had  probably  for  some  time  been  so. 
Yet  she  maintained  much  splendour  of  appearance ;  and  having 
flourished  as  a  milliner  at  the  South,  she  had  the  advantage  of 
possessing,  in  the  remnants  of  her  professional  stores,  more  un 
matched  and  unmatchable  articles  of  finery  than  often  find  their 
way  to  this  utilitarian  West.  She  had  also,  as  we  may  suppose, 
profited  by  the  Doctor's  professional  researches ;  since  she  assu 
red  those  of  the  young  ladies  whom  she  especially  favoured,  that 
washing  spoils  the  complexion,  and  that  her  own  somewhat  shad 
owy  hue  was  owing  to  her  having  discovered  this  cosmetic  se 
cret  late  in  life.  Add  to  all  this  that  Mrs.  Purfle  is  a  woman  of 
property,  having  a  clear  income  of  an  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
per  annum,  (so  says  Rumour,)  and  a  marriageable  niece  who  is 
her  decided  heiress,  and  it  will  readily  be  imagined  that  the  little 
green-blinded  tenement  which  shelters  Mrs.  Purfle  and  her  fair 
charge,  was  an  object  of  no  small  interest  in  the  eyes  of  the  vil 
lage. 

Miss  Celestina  Pye,  (called  Teeny  by  her  aunt,  except  on 
solemn  occasions,)  was  scarcely  taller  than  Mrs.  Purfle's  high- 
backed  rocking-chair,  but  of  a  most  bewitching  embonpoint. 
Her  complexion  was  of  that  kind  which  reminds  one  of  a 
fat  stewed  oyster  -white,  soft,  and  unmeaning — probably  a  mon 
ument  of  the  success  of  her  aunt's  hydrophobic  plan.  Her  eyes 
were  blue,  what  there  was  of  them ;  her  cheeks  boasted  each  a 
spot  of  pink  which  looked  like  hectic ;  and  her  mouth  was  so 
pursed  up  that  it  seemed  at  first  glance  as  if  she  must  always 
have  been  fed  with  a  quill.  Yet  upon  proper  inducement  Miss 
Celestina  could  draw  out  her  lips  to  a  becoming  simper,  beyond 
which  she  never  ventured,  not  having  good  teeth.  She  wore  the 
longest  bodice  and  the  largest  bustle  that  had  ever  been  seen  west 
of  Detroit ;  and  her  curls  were  so  innumerable  that  certain  of 
the  ruder  beaux  compared  her  to  "  an  owl  in  an  ivy-bush."  In 
fihort  the  young  lady  had  been  brought  up  for  a  belle  and  a 
beauty,  and  both  herself  and  Mrs.  Purfle  considered  the  work 
crowned  in  the  result. 


122  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

We  have  among  us  so  few  people  that  "  live  on  their  money," 
that  we  look  up  to  such  with  an  instinctive  reverence.  Whether 
Mrs.  Purfle's  income  had  been  exaggerated  (as  many  were  in 
clined  to  suspect,)  was  a  matter  of  frequent  discussion  ;  but  all 
the  world  joined  in  paying  her  the  same  attention  and  deference 
as  if  its  amount  had  been  ascertained  beyond  a  doubt.  She  was 
considered  as  a  leader  of  the  ton  on  all  occasions,  and  being  natu 
rally  of  a  gay  as  well  as  of  a  sentimental  turn,  she  helped  to  en 
liven  the  village  not  a  little. 

One  little  peculiarity  of  Mrs.  Purfle,  only  worth  telling  as  it 
develops  the  tenderer  elements  of  her  character,  has  not  yet  been 
mentioned.  Her  morning-room — indeed,  her  only  parlour — was 
fitted  up  in  a  style  so  unique  that  the  visitor  was  naturally  led  to 
inquire  as  to  the  cause  of  Mrs.  Purfle's  partiality  for  a  colour  not 
usually  much  in  favour  with  the  ladies.  To  begin  with  the  prin 
cipal  ornament,  the  lady  herself — she  sat  always  in  a  tall  yellow 
rocking-chair,  dressed  in  a  buff  gown  and  a  cap  trimmed  with 
paradise  ribbons.  Nankeen  slippers  graced  her  feet,  and  these, 
by  way  of  contrast,  bore  a  meandering  embroidery  in  straw-col 
oured  worsteds.  Her  windows  were  draped  with  orange  mo 
reen;  the  cover  of  her  work-table  was  a  monument  of  her  house 
wifely  ingenuity,  having  been  dyed  with  turmeric  by  her  own 
thrifty  fingers.  Her  pincushion,  founded  on  a  brick,  and  of 
course  of  respectable  dimensions,  was  covered  with  well-saved 
triangles  of  yellow  flannel,  and  edged  with  a  tarnished  gold  lace. 
Yellow  tissue-paper  clothed  the  frames  of  the  numerous  coloured 
engravings  which  adorned  the  walls;  and  a  splendid  apron  of  the 
same  hid  the  fire-place  all  summer,  and  was  pinned  before  the 
book-shelf  in  winter.  Upon  Mrs.  Purfle  and  all  these  golden 
accompaniments  waited  a  little  yellow  boy,  whom  she  had 
brought  from  the  South  with  her,  and  whose  name  she  had  chan 
ged  from  Helzy  to  Brimstone,  that  he  might  be  in  keeping  with  the 
rest  of  the  furniture. 

The  widow's  preference  for  the  colour  of  jealousy  was  riot 
without  a  reason  and  a  pertinent  one,  although  her  deceased  lord 
had  been  a  person  of  unsuspected  constancy  during  the  six  months 
of  their  married  life.  There  are  some  sentiments  which  can  give 
tenderness  even  to  yellow.  Doctor  Purfle  had  been  settled  in  the 


AMBUSCADES.  123 


city  of  New  Orleans  and  his  wife's  comfortable  house  only  a  sin 
gle  season,  when  he  fell  a  victim  to  the  prevailing  fever.  From 
this  time  forward  did  his  faithful  relict  vow  herself  to  the  most 
odious  of  hues.  "  He  was  all  yaller,"  she  would  pensively  ob 
serve,  "  and  I'll  be  yaller  too  !"  "  And,  besides,"  she  had  been 
known  to  add,  when  speaking  to  a  confidential  friend,  "  it  came 
very  handy,  for  my  yaller  things  hadn't  sold  as  well  as  I  ex 
pected." 

Having  been  so  happy  in  her  married  life,  we  shall  excite  no 
surprise  when  we  confess  that  Mrs.  Purfle's  darling  object  was  to 
secure  a  husband  for  her  niece.  Her  own  individual  objects  in 
life  were  answered ;  she  had  been  married,  she  had  changed  her 
name,  (very  advantageously  too,  for  her  own  used  to  be  Bore — 
she  always  insists  that  those  long  tippets  the  ladies  used  to  wind 
round  their  necks  were  named  after  her,)  she  had  kept  her  prop 
erty,  and  also  acquired  in  addition  the  Doctor's  cupping-glasses, 
his  saddle-bags,  and  many  other  useful  articles ;  and  now  her  sole 
care  was  the  fortunate  disposal  of  the  fair  Celestina.  Some  years 
had  passed  since  the  commencement  of  her  efforts,  and  Miss  Pye 
did  not  seem  any  nearer  to  the  goal  than  at  first ;  but  Mrs.'  Purfle 
was  not  discouraged,  for  she  had,  as  she  said,  almost  given  up, 
herself,  when  the  Doctor  came  along,  all  in  a  minute  like,  and  she 
was  married  without  any  trouble  at  all.  Hoping  for  some  such 
windfall,  she  and  Miss  Teeny  persevered,  and,  meanwhile,  amused 
themselves  as  well  as  they  could. 

In  the  interest  excited  by  these  two  new  families — one  so  busy, 
and  the  other  so  independent — we  had  almost  forgotten  Tom  Oli 
ver,  when  some  observant  eye  espied  a  smoke  issuing  from  his 
chimney  as  calmly  as  if  no  interval  had  occurred  in  its  owner's 
housekeeping  ;  and  the  neighbour  who  peeped  in  to  ascertain 
whether  there  was  a  mortal  and  an  honest  tenant,  found  Tom 
boiling  his  venison  with  potatoes,  as  usual,  in  a  huge  pot  which 
held  at  least  a  week's  provision,  and  sent  forth  a  savoury  steam. 

"  Why,  Tom  !  is  that  you  ?"  said  neighbour  Brumbleback. 

"  Flesh  and  blood,  and  blue  veins,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"  When  did  you  get  home  ?"  pursued  the  inquirer. 

"  Just  as  the  east  was  cracking  for  daylight." 

"  Where  in  the  world  have  you  been  this  time  ?" 


124  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

"  In  the  world !  Why,  bless  your  soul !  I've  been  to  Saint 
Peter's." 

"  You  don't !  was  he  to  hum  ?" 

Tom  looked  up  and  laughed. 

"  Brumbleback,"  said  he,  "  there  ain't  many  saints  in  the  army. 
They  call  a  fort  after  Saint  Peter,  away  off  on  the  Mississippi 
river." 

"  What  notion  sent  you  there  ?" 

"  I  went  after  my  cousin,  John  Hanford." 

"  Do  tell !  was  he  a  goin'  to  help  you  any  ?" 

"  I  don't  want  any  help.  1  only  went  to  see  him.  He  was  at 
Kalamazoo,  and  he  wrote  me  it  was  rather  a  busy  place,  and  I 
thought  I'd  go  out  there  and  take  a  hand  with  the  rest.  You 
know  I  tried  York  State  a  while  last  summer  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Brumbleback,  "  I  know  you  did,  and  I  expected 
you'd  come  back  so  big  that  a  man  couldn't  touch  you  with  a  ten 
foot  pole.  But  you  didn't  stay  long  enough  to  get  uppish.  What 
sent  you  back  so  soon  ?  I've  always  wanted  to  know." 

"  Oh  !  I  found  it  was  no  place  for  me.  I  went  to  see  my  un 
cle  in  Jefferson  County,  and  he  wanted  me  to  stay  with  him  in 
place  of  a  son  he'd  lost;  but  when  I  came  to  try  the  woods,  I  gave 
it  up  at  once.  You  never  saw  such  mean  hunting.  I  might 
walk  all  day  without  a  sight.  .And  there's  no  room  to  shoot 
when  you  do  see  any  thing.  I  came  within  one  of  shooting  the 
prettiest  girl  I  ever  laid  eyes  on.  She  was  out  in  the  woods  look 
ing  for  wintergreens.  I  never  shall  forget  how  she  looked.  I 
thought  she  was  dead,  but  she  had  only  fainted  away,  and  when  I 
saw  she  was  coming  to  life,  I  ran  like  a  painter .*  I  would  not  have 
met  her  eyes  for  the  world.  I  sent  some  one  else  to  see  to  her." 

"  And  didn't  you  see  her  again  ?" 

"  Not  I !  I  thought  I  had  discovered  that  the  East  was  no  place 
for  me,  so  I  just  gathered  myself  together,  shook  hands  with  my 
uncle,  and  made  tracks  westward.  I  wouldn't  have  taken  the 
old  man's  stony  farm  for  a  gift.  I  can  make  five  dollars  here 
where  I  can  one  there." 

"  Well!  and  what  took  you  to  Kalamazoo?"  said  Brumble 
back,  who  had  never  before  found  Tom  so  communicative. 

«  Panther. 


AMBUSCADES.  ]25 

"  Why,  John  Hanford  wrote  me  that  they  were  going  to  have 
a  bear-hunt  out  there,  and  that,  besides,  there  was  a  good  deal  to 
do,  so  I  thought  I'd  try  my  luck.  When  I  got  there  I  found  a 
heavy  rain  had  spoiled  the  bear-hunt,  and  my  cousin  had  gone  to 
St.  Joseph's  to  keep  a  boarding-house.  I  went  on  to  St.  Joseph's, 
and  there  found  that  John  had  changed  his  mind,  and  started  three 
days  before  for  Chicago.  I  had  got  into  the  humour  of  travelling 
now,  so  I  thought  I'd  go  too  and  not  give  up  since  I'd  come  so  far 
to  see  John.  So  off  I  went,  but  would  you  believe  it !  John  had 
just  started  with  a  party  to  Rock  River  to  see  what  was  doing 
there.  I  was  determined  not  to  be  distanced,  so  I  gave  chase 
again.  At  Rock  River  I  missed  him  just  as  I  had  done  before. 
He  had  had  a  better  offer  to  go  to  Galena  and  work  among  the 
lead  mines.  I  felt  sure  of  him  now,  so  I  stayed  a  few  days  at 
Rock  River  to  see  what  I  could,  and  rest  myself  a  little,  and  then 
started  for  Galena.  Lo  and  behold !  John  was  off  to  Wheat- 
Diggins,  because  he  wanted  to  see  a  place  where  they  never  cut 
their  corn,  but  turned  in  their  hogs  to  fat  themselves  according  to 
their  own  notion.  I'd  half  a  mind  to  give  up,  but  I  thought  I'd 
like  to  see  such  curious  work  too,  so  off  I  streaked  to  Wheat- 
Diggins.  Do  you  believe,  John  was  off  before  I  got  there  !" 

"  Well,  perhaps  ;  but  you  warn't  fool  enough  to  follow  him  any 
further?" 

"  Wasn't  I !  By  that  time  I'd  got  so  gritty,  I'd  have  followed 
him  to  the  Pacific,  rather  than  have  given  up.  He  had  gone 
over  the  prairies  with  a  party  of  young  men,  and  there  was  an 
other  party  just  ready  to  start,  so  I  was  glad  of  the  chance  to  go 
with  them — for  I  had  never  seen  a  real  prairie — and  a  fine  hearty 
set  of  fellows  they  were." 

"  How  did  you  like  the  prairies  ?" 

"  Right  well !  There  were  seventy  miles  of  the  way  without 
a  house,  so  we  camped  out.  One  prairie  that  we  crossed  was 
twenty-six  miles  long,  sometimes  level  as  a  floor,  and  then  again 
rolling.  At  tim?s  we  could  see  neither  tree  nor  bush,  but  just  a 
great  lake  like,  frozen  over  and  covered  with  snow — for  it  began 
to  be  cold  by  that  time.  There  would  be  timber-patches  that 
looked  at  first  no  bigger  than  your  hand,  but  when  you'd  come 
up  to  'em,  you'd  find  they  covered  four  or  five  acres,  and  some- 

10 


126  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 

times  fifty  or  an  hundred.  These  patches  looked  exactly  like 
islands.  We  camped  in  these  for  the  sake  of  shelter  and  fire 
wood.  After  supper  we  lay  down  and  slept  with  our  feet  to  the 
fire  ;  but  we  did  not  dare  to  sleep  long,  for  fear  of  getting  numb 
with  the  cold.  So  every  hour  or  so  we'd  get  up  and  wrestle  a 
spell,  and  then  lie  down  and  take  another  nap.  Oh  !  we  had 
grand  times  !" 

"  But  what  did  you  do  for  money  ?" 

"  I  didn't  need  much,  for  generally  1  couldn't  get  people  to  take 
pay  for  my  lodging.  They  were  glad  to  see  any  body  from  the 
settlements,  and  they  would  ask  a  great  many  questions  ;  and  by 
talking  round  we  generally  found  that  I  knew  somebody  they 
knew,  and  then  they  would  never  take  a  cent.  They  would  give 
me  a  bit  of  paper  with  their  name  and  where  they  lived,  to  give 
to  their  acquaintance  when  1  went  back.  Once  they  did  that 
when  I  did  not  know  the  man  they  asked  about,  but  had  only 
heard  him  preach.  Yet  when  I  reached  St.  Peter's,  two  thousand 
miles  from  home,  I  had  only  two  dollars  in  my  pocket.  But  I 
found  my  cousin  f" 

"  Shy  game,  /  tell  ye  !"  said  Brumbleback  ;  "  but  how  did 
you  get  home  ?" 

"  Oh,  they  were  building  a  saw  mill  not  far  from  there,  and 
John  engaged  as  a  hand,  and  they  offered  me  twenty  dollars  a 
month  and  my  board,  if  I'd  stay  too.  I  did  not  let  them  know 
how  low  I  was  in  pocket,  but  kept  a  stiff  upper  lip,  and  made  as 
if  I  didn't  care  whether  I  worked  or  no.  At  length  I  told  'em  if 
they'd  give  me  thirty  dollars,  I'd  stay.  So  they  agreed,  and  I  got 
enough  to  pay  my  passage  home,  buy  a  new  suit  of  clothes  at 
Chicago,  and  leave  a  nest-egg  in  my  pocket  after  all."* 

When  Tom  had  finished  his  recital  he  inquired  in  his  turn  as 
to  the  course  of  things  at  home  during  their  absence.  He  was 
duly  informed  of  the  accession  to  our  population  and  many  other 
interesting  particulars.  Brumbleback's  account  of  the  two  new 
belles  was  not  very  fascinating.  "  The  chunky  one,"  said  he, 
"  is  fixed  off  like  a  poppy-show,  and  never  lets  the  draw-strings 

*  If  Tom's  yarn  seems  a  tough  one,  I  can  only  say  it  was  taken  down 
from  his  own  lips,  and  preserved  as  being  characteristic  of  the  habits  of  the 
country. 


AMBUSCADES.  i27 


out  of  her  lips.  T'other  gal  is  likely  enough,  but  the  mother's  a 
blazer !  Whoever  marries  Emmy,  had  better  look  out  for  his 
ears.  The  mill-clack  is  nothing  to  the  old  woman's  tongue." 

Tom  stayed  at  home  long  enough  to  clean  his  rifle  and  eat  his 
dinner,  and  then  went  out  hunting  to  rest  himself  after  his  jour 
ney.  He  was  passing  by  a  cranberry-marsh  about  half  a  mile 
from  the  village,  when  he  heard,  quite  near  him,  the  sound  of 
feminine  distress,  loud  and  real.  He  dashed  in  among  the  tan 
gled  bushes,  and  found  a  young  lady  sticking  in  the  half-frozen 
mud.  It  was  Miss  Celestina  Pye,  and  she  certainly  had  no  draw 
strings  in  her  lips  just  then.  Tom  observed  afterwards,  (with 
less  than  his  usual  gallantry,)  "  that  nothing  but  a  pig  in  a  gate 
ever  beat  her."  He  extricated  her  very  ably — a  lamentable 
figure — her  dress  torn  by  the  inconsiderate  briers,  and  her  prim 
face  unshaped  by  the  agony  of  her  terror.  She  had  been  search 
ing  for  those  choicest  of  cranberries  which  are  found  still  on  the 
bushes  after  the  winter  is  past.  The  water  in  which  they  chiefly 
grow  is  often  frozen  over,  deceptively  enough,  so  that  a  plunge 
is  not  unusual.  But  Miss  Pye's  eastern  fears  of  rattlesnakes 
were  still  in  full  force,  and  as  soon  as  she  found  herself  in  the 
marsh,  she  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  she  was  bitten  to  death 
as  a  matter  of  course. 

After  her  rescue  occurred  the  difficulty  of  presenting  such  a 
figure  on  her  walk  through  the  village.  Here  Tom's  natural 
politeness  suggested  a  short  cut,  to  facilitate  which  he  took  down 
a  part  of  the  rail-fence  and  pointed  out  to  the  young  lady  a  path 
by  which  she  might  reach  the  back  of  her  aunt's  domain  without 
betraying  her  disaster  to  the  public. 

During  all  this,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Miss  Celestina, 
though  her  eyes  were  small  and  somewhat  obscured  by  mud,  had 
not  managed  to  perceive  that  her  deliverer  was  a  young  man,  a 
stranger,  and  one  whose  splendid  proportions  and  fine  face  would 
have  commanded  notice  any  where.  She  looked  through  her 
torn  green  veil  and  her  multitudinous  curl-papers  (for  she  was 
cranberrying  incog.)  at  our  hero's  dark  eyes,  and  found  herself 
very  much  in  love,  as  was  quite  natural  and  proper  under  the 
circumstances. 

That  evening  at  sunset  Tom  presented  himself  at  Mrs.  Purfle's 


128  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 

door  with  a  buck  nicely  dressed,  inquiring  whether  the  lady 
wished  to  purchase. 

"  How  much  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Pur(le. 

"  A  dollar,"  said  the  hunter. 

"  That's  too  much,"  observed  Mrs.  Purfle.  "  It's  more  than 
you  ought  to  ask,  young  man,"  she  said,  very  solemnly,  and  with 
an  air  of  reproof. 

The  deer  weighed  some  sixty  or  seventy  pounds — perhaps  more. 
Tom  moved  onward. 

"  Can  you  let  me  have  half  of  it  for  fifty  cents  ?" 

"Never  cut,"  said  Tom,  who  seldom  wasted  words  in  such 
cases. 

Just  then  Miss  Pye  made  her  appearance.  She  was  very 
smart,  and  her  head  quivered  with  subdivided  ringlets.  When 
she  saw  Tom  with  the  venison  at  his  feet,  she  took  it  for  granted 
that  he  had  called  to  inquire  after  her  health,  and  that  the  game 
was  an  offering  to  her  charms.  What  wonder  that  the  advan 
cing  smile  was  a  gracious  one  !  Or  what  wonder  that  the  corners 
of  her  mouth  took  a  downward  curve  when  Tom  flung  his  buck 
upon  his  shoulder  and  walked  ofT  without  looking  at  her  ! 

"  Why,  aunt !"  said  Miss  Teeny,  dolefully,  "  that's  the  very 
one  !" 

"  What  one  ?"  said  Mrs.  Purfle. 

"  Why  the  one  that  helped  me  out  of  the  marsh  !  I  dare  say 
be  came  to  see  me.  If  I  had  had  my  other  frock  on  he  would 
have  known  me." 

Now  it  was  so  well  understood  between  Mrs.  Purfle  and  her 
niece  that  a  beau  for  the  latter,  (technically  speaking,)  was  the 
one  thing  needful,  that  it  was  no  longer  ranked  among  subjects 
debatcable.  There  was  nothing  to  be  said  about  it,  even  by  Mrs. 
Purfle.  So  she  stood  and  looked  after  Tom  in  silence,  musing 
upon  the  ill-timed  thriftiness  that  had  driven  so  fine  a  young  man 
from  the  vicinity  of  Miss  Pye's  attractions. 

"  Teeny  !"  she  said  at  length,  with  her  eyes  still  travelling 
down  the  street. — "  Teeny  !  it  is  a  long  while  since  you  called 
upon  Emma  Levering.  Get  your  things,  quick !  and  go  down 
there !" 

This  speech  began  moderate,  but  the  crescendo  was  so  rapid 


AMBUSCADfcfe.  J29 


that  the  close  was  prestissimo.  Miss  Pye,  following  the  direction 
of  her  aunt's  eye,  saw  that  Torn  had  stopped  at  Mrs.  Levering's, 
and  she  lost  not  a  breath  in  getting  her  bonnet. 

At  Mrs.  Levering's  gate  stood  Mrs.  Levering  herself,  her  cap 
border  blown  back  by  the  chill  wind,  and  her  tongue  in  full  ac 
tivity,  enlightening  the  young  hunter's  mind  as  to  the  true  and 
proper  value  of  venison  "  out  here  in  the  woods." 

"  It  costs  you  nothing  at  all,"  she  said,  "  but  just  the  powder 
and  ball  it  takes  to  shoot  'em,  and  that  can't  be  much,  for  pow 
der's  only  six  shillings  a  pound,  and  as  for  shot,  you  can  put  in 
old  buttons  or  any  thing." 

Tom  was  looking  at  the  speaker  with  an  eye  that  said  as  plain 
ly  as  eye  could  speak,  "  Have  you  almost  done  ?"  But  he  waited, 
for  he  was  too  civil  to  walk  off  while  a  lady  was  speaking,  arid  it  was 
difficult  to  catch  a  moment  when  Mrs.  Levering  was  not  speaking. 

Miss  Pye,  with  the  first  breath  she  could  command,  asked  for 
Emma,  and  Mrs.  Levering  called  her.  Tom  was  taking  the  op 
portunity  to  move  off,  but  ere  he  had  shouldered  his  burthen  he 
caught  sight  of  a  face  that  charmed  him  to  the  spot.  Had  he  in 
deed  seen  it  before  ?  Miss  Teeny,  scarce  greeting  Emma,  turned 
at  once  to  the  handsome  hunter,  and  in  her  choicest  terms  thanked 
him  for  his  assistance  in  extricating  her  from  her  perilous  situation. 

Tom  could  with  difficulty  be  induced  to  comprehend  what  she 
meant,  for  it  was  not  easy  to  recognize  in  the  rainbow-tinted 
speaker  the  muddy  heroine  of  the  morning.  And  then  he  seemed 
to  feel  himself  in  "  a  scrape,"  and  to  be  puzzled  for  a  suitable 
reply  to  so  much  gratitude. 

"  I  thought  I  never  should  have  got  out !"  said  Miss  Teeny, 
rolling  up  her  little  eyes  with  a  pathetic  expression  of  self-pity. 

"  Oh  !"  said  Tom,  "  I've  got  a  cow  out  of  there  before  now." 

Tom  meant  simply  that  he  had  done  a  much  more  difficult 
thing  than  the  helping  of  a  young  lady  out  of  the  marsh — but  the 
illustration  was  not  fortunately  chosen.  Yet  Miss  Celestina  for 
bore  to  notice  the  error,  and  only  said  very  graciously  that  her 
aunt  would  take  the  venison. 

"  Venison !"  said  Emma  ;  "  oh,  mother,  poor  Jack  said  he 
thought  he  could  eat  some  venison  if  he  could  get  it." 

"  He  shall  have  it  and  welcome,"  said  Tom,  throwing  the  deer 

10 


130  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

saddlewise  on  the  rail  of  the  little  porch,  and  turning  away 
quickly.  In  vain  did  the  widow  and  Miss  Teeny  call  after  our 
retreating  hero.  He  barely  "raised  his  cap  from  his  brow  as  he 
passed,  and  then,  clearing  the  ground  with  a  hunter's  stride,  dis 
appeared  round  the  first  corner,  before  the  trio  had  recovered 
from  their  astonishment. 

"  Very  odd  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Celestina  Pye,  "  when  aunt  said 
she  would  take  it." 

"  Odd,  indeed  !"  responded  Mrs.  Levering,  "  when  he  wouldn't 
look  at  anything  less  than  a  dollar  just  now  !" 

Emma  said  nothing,  but  busied  herself  in  preparing  some  of 
the  venison  for  her  sick  brother,  with  possibly  an  occasional 
recollection  of  the  gallant  huntsman. 

From  the  period  of  Tom's  return  from  the  expedition  to  the 
Mississippi,  all  his  friends  remarked  a  change  in  his  appearance 
and  habits.  Not  only  was  his  dress  more  cared  for,  but  his  way 
of  living  was  essentially  civilized  ;  and  his  manner  lost  that  tinge 
of  untameableness  which  had  formerly  characterized  it.  He 
attended  the  singing-school  regularly,  and  often  escorted  home 
some  of  the  fair  ones  who  brightened  these  evening  gatherings. 
He  never  indeed  went  so  far  as  to  volunteer  a  call,  but  he  would 
sometimes  accept  an  invitation  to  a  tea  party,  though  he  generally 
amused  himself  on  such  occasions  by  playing  with  the  dog,  or 
with  the  baby  if  there  was  no  dog.  He  was  seldom  caught  look- 
ing  at  a  young  lady  ;  but  if  he  did  look  at  any  one,  it  was  at 
Miss  Celestina  Pye.  She  even  thought  that  she  had  discovered 
the  costume  which  best  pleased  him,  for  he  never  looked  at  her 
so  much  as  when  she  was  dressed  in  her  buff  calico  with  large 
purple  sprigs.  So  she  used  to  put  on  this  dress  very  frequently, 
with  a  suitable  accompaniment  of  thready  curls  and  gay  ribbons. 

Emma  Levering  all  this  time,  the  mere  drudge  of  the  most 
thrifty  and  exacting  of  mothers,  was  in  a  manner  forgotten  by 
all.  She  was  the  only  pretty  girl  in  the  village  circle  that  Tom 
Oliver  never  was  seen  to  look  at,  although  he  was  unceasing  in 
his  attentions  to  her  sick  brother,  whom  he  supplied  with  the 
choicest  game  the  woods  afforded.  Tom  was  an  odd  fellow, 
and  everybody  but  Miss  Pye  and  Mrs.  Purfle  thought  that  he  was 
resolved  to  be  an  old  bachelor. 


AMBUSCADES.  131 


About  these  days,  Mrs.  Purfle,  who  was  of  an  active  and  enter- 
prising  turn  of  mind,  and  something  of  a  diplomatist  withal, 
thought  proper  to  give  a  large  party — no  unusual  expedient  to 
enhance  one's  importance,  and  to  make  one's  acquaintance 
coveted.  Everybody  was  invited  and  great  preparation  made, 
though  there  was  unfortunately  no  possibility  of  enlarging  the 
small  parlour,  nor  any  of  the  suite  of  apartments  of  which  that 
capped  the  climax.  But  if  our  good  lady  had  been  initiated  into 
the  fashionable  notion  of  a  "  feed,"  she  could  not  have  provided 
more  bounteously  for  those  who  were  to  be  squeezed  within  her 
walls.  Tom  had  a  note  of  course  ;  and  he  was  further  favoured 
with  a  P.  S.,  asking  if  he  could  "  as  well  as  not"  provide  Mrs. 
Purfle  with  game  for  the  occasion.  What  he  sent  would  have 
made  the  fortune  of  a  city  supper ;  and,  in  addition  to  this,  there 
were  days'  works  of  cake,  and  pies,  and  custards,  not  to  speak  of 
an  unspeakable  variety  of  minor  adjuncts.  The  very  gathering 
of  the  cups  and  saucers,  and  plates,  and  knives,  and  spoons,  was 
a  serious  business.  In  the  country  it  is  still  customary  to  provide 
for  as  many  guests  as  you  invite — another  proof  that  we  are 
behind  the  age. 

Two  o'clock  came,  and  with  it  a  good  portion  of  the  company. 
Even  from  the  neighbouring  settlements  whole  wagon-loads  were 
imported,  whose  bustling  Sunday  clothes  filled  Mrs.  Purfle's  yel 
low  parlour,  borrowed  chairs  and  all.  At  first  the  silence  was 
prodigious ;  then  would  be  heard  an  occasional  burst  of  giggle, 
quickly  smothered  ;  but  gradually  rose  a  continuous  hum,  which 
swelled  ere  long  into  an  undistinguishable  clatter,  enlivened  ever 
and  anon  by  such  explosions  of  laughter  as  are  heard  only  at  the 
West.  During  all  this  time  Tom  Oliver  did  not  make  his  appear 
ance.  It  grew  dusk — three  candles  were  lighted  on  the  mantel 
piece,  in  front  of  a  great  many  black  profiles ;  the  tea  (secretly 
put  back)  was  at  length  made — Miss  Pye's  eyes  were  anything 
but  auspicious — when  in  carne  Tom,  dressed  in  his  Chicago  suit, 
and  looking  handsomer  than  ever.  Oh,  how  the  room  brightened 
in  Miss  Celestina's  eyes  !  It  was  as  if  all  three  of  the  candles 
had  been  snuffed  at  once  ! 

Our  bashful  hero  had  scarcely  time  to  cast  a  glance  about  him 
(over  the  heads  of  most  of  the  company)  when  he  was  called 


132  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 

upon  by  Mrs.  Purfle  to  lead  the  way  into  "  the  other  room,"  aa 
the  kitchen  was  modestly  denominated.  Tom  had  not  ascertained 
who  was  and  who  was  not  present,  so  he  gave  his  hand,  at  a  ven 
ture,  to  Miss  Polly  Troome,  the  blacksmith's  tall  daughter,  gal 
lantly  handing  her  to  the  long  tea-table,  and  seating  her  opposite 
to  a  promising  bowl  of  apple-sauce.  Other  ladies  were  soon 
seated,  and  when  every  corner  of  the  board  (and  they  were  many, 
since  no  two  tables  in  the  neighbourhood  matched  in  size  or 
shape,)  was  filled,  it  became  the  duty  of  the  beaux  to  play  the 
part  of  waiters,  which  devoir  was  performed  with  various  grace 
by  the  various  youths  concerned.  A  roast  pig  was  to  be  carved 
and  a  huge  chicken-pie  distributed ;  bowls  of  pickles,  and  plates 
of  hot  biscuits  were  to  be  handed  about ;  and,  worse  than  all,  a 
ceaseless  succession  of  cups  of  tea  required  all  the  skill  and 
discretion  of  the  preux  chevaliers.  Some  scalding  there  was,  but 
not  serious  ;  much  pretty  shrieking,  and  not  a  little  unrefined 
laughter.  Miss  Pye's  new  blue  silk  apron  was  the  recipient  of  a 
saucer  of  pudding  ;  old  Mrs.  Spindle  made  her  usual  disparaging 
remarks  about  the  strength  of  tea,  in  an  audible  whisper  ;  poor 
little  Brim  was  trodden  upon  and  tumbled  over  by  everybody 
— but  upon  the  whole,  the  party  presented  the  true  party  aspect, 
saving  and  excepting  some  few  conventional  prejudices  as  to  the 
dress  of  the  company  and  the  nature  of  the  refreshments. 

But  in  the  midst  of  the  feast  a  blank  occurred — felt  more  par 
ticularly  by  one  of  the  gay  assemblage,  yet  perceived  by  nume 
rous  others.  Tom  Oliver  was  missing.  What  could  this  mean  ? 
Was  he  preparing  something  characteristically  odd,  to  help  along 
the  general  hilarity  ?  This  was  thought  of,  but  conjectures  died 
away  after  a  while,  for  the  young  hunter  appeared  no  more. 
The  usual  amusements  went  on ;  all  sorts  of  forfeits  were  played 
— "  scorn"  and  "  criminal,"  and  whatever  gives  an  excuse  for 
some  little  romping  and  kissing,  but  all  was  begun  and  finished 
without  Tom.  This  was  like  a  sprinkling  of  cold  water,  for  Tom 
had  become  a  general  favourite  with  the  young  people. 

But  it  is  time  to  account  for  our  hero.  It  had  been  whispered 
about  that  Emma  Levering  could  not  come,  on  account  of  the  ill 
ness  of  her  brother,  but  no  one  thought  of  the  circumstance  in 
connection  with  Tom's  disappearance.  Yet  it  was  to  the  busy 


AMBUSCADES.  133 


widow's  that  he  had  gone  from  the  gay  assembly,  and  there,  while 
all  was  gayety  at  Mrs.  Purfle's  grand  party,  he  was  already  estab 
lished  as  a  watcher  for  the  night,  while  the  weary  family  had  gone 
quietly  to  bed,  trusting  to  his  well-known  reputation  as  a  nurse. 
This  was  the  last  thing  his  young  companions  would  have  guess 
ed,  yet  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  for  Tom  to 
think  of.  We  hardly  think  that  the  fair  face  of  Emma  had  any 
share  in  originating  the  benevolent  impulse — at  least  there  is  no 
testimony  to  this  effect — but  we  doubt  not  there  was  a  sympathy 
for  her  overtasked  condition.  Tom  was  a  practical  man,  and 
Mrs.  Levering's  exactions  were  notorious.  If  he  had  but  known 
what  pity  is  akin  to,  we  think  he  might  perhaps  have  eschewed 
it ;  but  Tom  read  no  poetry. 

This  generosity,  however,  was  like  much  that  passes  for  such 
— it  was  at  the  cost  of  another.  Tom  cared  nothing  about  the 
party,  but  poor  Miss  Teeny  felt  that  all  her  pains  had  been 
thrown  away,  since  the  handsome  hunter  had  slighted  the  occa 
sion  so  cruelly.  When  she  had  heard  what  called  him  away,  she 
was  disposed  to  be  vexed  with  her  unpretending  neighbour ;  but 
she  very  soon  ascertained  that  Emma  had  been  sent  to  bed  im 
mediately  on  Tom's  arrival,  so  that  they  had  scarcely  even  met. 
So  she  was  encouraged  again,  feeling  sure  that  her  own  attractions 
must  be  victorious  in  fair  field.  Much  did  she  walk  for  her 
health  during  that  rainy  spring,  and  numerous  were  the  errands 
which  took  her  to  Mrs.  Brumbleback's,  the  way  to  whose  house 
lay  directly  past  Tom's  gate.  Yet  she  found  the  huntsman  very 
hard  to  encourage.  If  he  was  standing  by  his  door  when  she 
passed,  he  was  very  apt  to  go  in  and  shut  it  without  waiting  to 
bow  to  her ;  and  if  he  happened  to  be  at  his  well,  he  would  go  on 
drawing  water  without  once  turning  his  head.  It  was  very  odd 
that  he  should  be  so  bashful. 

Tom's  well  was  a  model  of  a  well — for  a  new  country  we 
mean.  It  was  curbed  at  the  top  with  a  cut  from  a  hollow  button- 
wood  tree,  about  four  feet  in  diameter  on  the  inside,  and  perfectly 
smooth,  inside  and  out.  This  curb  rested  on  a  layer  of  plank 
some  two  feet  within  the  ground,  and  from  this  floor  downward 
the  well  was  built  of  brick  in  the  neatest  manner,  and  the  clear 
water  filled  it  almost  to  the  platform.  It  was  partly  roofed  over, 


134  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

and  provided  with  a  great  trough  of  white  wood  au  naiurel,  well 
befitting  the  beauty  of  the  whole  structure.* 

This  was  an  object  of  just  pride  to  the  owner,  for  it  was  the 
work  of  his  own  hands,  and  he  had  been  the  fortunate  finder  of 
the  tree  which  had  afforded  curbs  for  several  wells  in  the  neigh 
bourhood.  It  was  placed  near  his  cottage  under  the  shadow  of 
an  elm  which  chanced  to  grow  just  in  the  right  place. 

To  this  well  came  Tom  one  afternoon  just  as  the  sun  was  set 
ting,  driving  a  pair  of"  two-year-olds,"  and  singing  very  audibly 
and  in  no  bad  taste,  "  Some  love  to  roam,"  which  he  had  caught 
from  Mr.  Russell's  own  lips  as  that  "vocalist"  passed,  like  a 
musical  meteor,  through  our  far-away  state.  He  was  just  exe 
cuting  "  A  life  in  the  woods  for  me  !"  with  an  attempt  at  the 
original  cadenza,  when  he  looked  over  his  beautiful  well-curb 
and  saw — 

Mercy  on  me — what  an  exclamation,  Tom  !  How  would  that 
sound  at  "  the  East  ?" 

It  was  Miss  Celestina  Pye,  standing  on  the  planks,  and  looking 
upward  with  a  piteous  glance. 

"  Oh,    Mr.    Oliver  !    I'm  so  scar't  !    I'm  almost  out   of  my 


senses 


t» 


And  in  her  distraction  she  adjusted  her  curls,  and  threw  back 
her  green  veil. 

"  What's  scar't  you  this  time  ?"  said  Tom,  with  odious  cool 
ness. 

"  Why,  I  thought  I  heard  a  bull  !  I'm  sure  I  thought  I  did  ; 
and  if  you  only  knew  how  'fraid  I  am  of  a  bull !  Aunt  says  I 
ought  never  to  walk  out  alone,  I'm  so  timid  !" 

"  I  should  think  she  was  right,"  observed  Tom,  drily. 

"  And  now,"  continued  Miss  Celestina  Pye,  "  how  I  am  to  get 
out  of  this  place — I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

"  How  did  you  get  in  ?" 

"  Oh  !  I  was  so  frightened,  you  see,  that  I  climbed  over  that 
low  place  by  the  trough.  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  lift  me  out  f 
I  feel  so  very  weak." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Tom ;  and  Miss  Pye  waited  a  good 

*  A  well  precisely  similar  to  Tom's  may  be  seen  near  the  door  of  an  inn, 
some  twelve  mile*  west  of  Detroit,  on  the  Grand  River  road 


AMBUSCADES.  135 


many  moments,  expecting  the  return  of  her  squire.  By  and  bye, 
when  she  had  begun  to  tind  the  well  rather  chilly,  she  heaid  a 
footstep. 

"  Oh  !  here  you  are  at  last,"  said  she. 

"  Yes,  here  I  be  !"  answered  Brumbleback's  gruff  voice,  "  and 
here's  my  ox-chain  for  you  to  climb  up  by,"  and  he  lowered  the 
ox-chain,  looped,  having  the  ends  fastened  outside.  "  There  ! 
you  can  climb  up  by  that,  easy  enough  !"  observed  this  squire  of 
dames ;  "  you  needn't  be  afeared,  for  it  would  bear  five  ton." 

"  But  where's  Mr.  Oliver  ?"  asked  the  doleful  Celestina. 

"  He's  off!  he  thought  he  heard  something  in  the  wheat  field, 
and  he  told  me  to  help  you  out." 

Miss  Pye's  walk  homeward  was  not  a  pleasant  one ;  she  was  a 
little  damp  and  dreadfully  crestfallen ;  but  Mrs.  Purfle  assured 
her  that  she  was  certain  Tom  "  felt  so"  he  could  not  venture  to 
take  her  out,  for  fear  of  letting  her  down  the  well. 

The  oil  of  her  aunt's  flattery  served  once  more  to  trim  the 
lamp  of  hope  in  Miss  Teeny's  heart ;  aunt  had  gone  through  it 
all,  and  surely  she  ought  to  know.  So  Miss  Pye  refreshed  her 
array,  and  sat  down  to  her  knitting,  Mrs.  Purfle  thinking  it  prob 
able,  "  considering  all  things,"  that  Tom  would  call. 

Miss  Teeny  had  picked  up  the  lamp- wick  with  a  pin  several 
times,  and  begun  to  yawn  pretty  frequently,  when  she  heard 
Tom's  ringing  laugh  as  he  passed  the  window.  He  was  coming, 
after  all  ! 

Alas  !  he  had  only  been  to  carry  a  brace  of  prairie-hens  to 
Jack  Levering.  Miss  Celestina  Pye  put  her  curls  in  twenty-two 
papers,  and  then  went  desperately  to  bed. 

With  the  morning  light,  however,  came  a  ray  of  mental  illu 
mination.  That  song  !  the  gallant  hunter  was  fond  of  music  ! 
Miss  Teeny  had  something  called  a  piano,  which,  though  lacking 
several  important  strings,  still  was  capable  of  an  atrocious  noise 
which  passed  with  some  for  music.  This  had  never  yet  been 
brought  to  bear  upon  Tom;  but  the  summer  was  coming  and  such  a 
resource  must  no  longer  be  neglected.  Among  the  poetical  scraps 
in  Miss  Pyo's  album  was  the  following — 

Music  hath  charms  to  soothe  the  savage  beast — • 


136  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 

How  much  more  then  one  who  only  hunted  such  animals  !  So 
the  tinkling  torment  was  put  in  requisition,  and  Mons  Meg  her 
self  could  scarcely  have  been  more  noisy.  "  Oh !  come  with 
me !"  "  Meet  me  by  moonlight !"  "  Leave  me  not !"  were  the 
pathetic  adjurations  which  now  arrested  the  attention  of  the  pass 
ers-by  ;  but,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  just  about  that  time  Tom 
got  a  habit  of  going  to  town  by  the  back  street.  However,  the 
weather  had  now  become  pleasant,  and  Mrs.  Purfle  happening  to 
be  in  the  garden  at  the  time  he  usually  passed,  politely  invited 
him  in,  saying  that  Celestina  had  been  tuning  up  the  piano  quite 
nice.  Tom  could  not  refuse,  and  once  in,  he  underwent  the 
whole  without  flinching.  Miss  Pye's  voice  was  not  exactly  a 
contralto,  indeed  it  was  puzzling  to  determine  the  class  ;  since 
what  there  was  of  it  was  so  strained  and  filtered  through  a  very 
small  mouth,  and  a  most  miserably  pinched  nose,  that  it  resembled 
the  chirping  of  a  mouse  in  a  cheese.  But  the  accompaniment 
was  loud  enough  to  make  up  for  that.  This  was  extemporaneous 
entirely,  but  when  she  confined  her  bass  to  the  key-note,  she  made 
out  pretty  well  for  uninstructed  ears.  It  was  only  when  she  be 
came  enthusiastic  and  branched  out  into  involuntary  chromatics, 
that  it  grew  absolutely  unendurable.  This  pass  had  been  nearly 
attained  when  Tom  asked  for  "Fare  thee  well !"  This  not  be 
ing  on  Miss  Teeny's  list,  he  was  about  taking  his  leave  when  she 
volunteered  "  Faithless  Emma."  Tom  sat  down  again,  heard 
the  song  through,  asked  a  repetition,  and  then  seized  his  cap  res 
olutely. 

"Are  you  going  to  singing-school  to  night  ?  /  am,"  said  Miss 
Teeny,  all  in  a  breath. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  shall  or  no,"  said  stony-hearted  Tom, 
and  he  bolted  rather  unceremoniously. 

"  Well,  I  declare  !"  said  Mrs.  Purfle,  "that  fellow  is  the  hard 
est  to  manage !" 

The  fact  is,  that  the  tactics  of  Mrs.  Purfle  and  Miss  Pye  ought 
to  have  brought  Tom  down  long  before ;  but  he  was  like  Wel 
lington  at  Waterloo,  and  did  not  know  when  he  was  beaten.  He 
must  have  borne  a  charmed  life,  to  walk  unharmed  within  point- 
blank  range  of  such  formidable  artillery;  but  we  are  unable  to 
furnish  our  readers  witli  the  recipe.  Gay's  sweet  ballad  says, 


AMBUSCADES.  137 


"  Love  turns  the  balls  that  round  me  fly, 
Lest  precious  tears  should  fall  from  Susan's  eye." 

But  Torn  had  as  yet  paid  Love  no  homage,  and  we  well  know 
that  wicked  power  does  nothing  for  nothing.  Our  conjectures  as 
to  Tom's  safeguard  point  indeed  toward  that  bewitching  face 
which  his  rifle  had  so  nearly  marred,  but  would  a  roving  hunter 
remember  one  look  so  long  ? 

But  Miss  Pye's  ammunition  was  not  yet  exhausted.  The  very 
next  Sunday  saw  her,  laced  almost  to  extinction,  on  her  way  to 
meeting,  arrayed  in  her  most  seducing  paraphernalia,  her  face 
white  and  her  hands  shining  purple  through  their  lace  gloves, 
from  the  energy  with  which  she  had  striven  to  be  delicate.  She 
had  seen  a  belle  faint  in  public  at  "  the  East;"  she  had  observed 
the  solicitude  of  her  attendant  knight;  and  she  did  not  know  why 
such  things  might  not  be  done  by  some  people  as  well  as  others. 
So  she  took  her  seat  on  the  women's  side  of  the  narrow  passage 
which  divides  the  two  rows  of  benches  in  our  school-room,  deter 
mined  to  find  the  vulnerable  part  in  Tom's  heart,  if  indeed  there 
was  one — which  she  began  to  doubt. 

This  mode  of  parting  the  rougher  from  the  gentler  sex  in  pub 
lic,  prevails  wherever  seats  are  common  property — the  why  is  not 
so  easy  to  determine.  If  designed  to  prevent  stray  thoughts,  it  is 
quite  a  mistake,  for  by  this  arrangement  eyes  are  left  at  full 
liberty,  nay,  are  placed  under  a  sort  of  necessity  for  encounter 
ing.  If  to  secure  attention  to  the  speaker,  it  is  still  more  unfor 
tunate,  for  the  deadly  cross-fire  from  the  sides  is  far  more  effec 
tive  than  the  scattering  fire  from  the  platform.  But  it  suited  Miss 
Teeny's  purpose,  for  it  brought  her  face  to  face  with  her  indom 
itable  enemy. 

She  had  done  her  work  so  effectually  at  home  that  there  was 
little  to  be  done  in  meeting.  The  fainting  had  very  nearly  come 
off  in  earnest,  and  her  face  began  to  look  deadly  blue  very  soon 
after  the  commencement  of  the  sermon.  At  length  she  fell  back 
on  the  desk  before  which  she  was  sitting. 

All  was  now  confusion  and  dismay,  for  we  are  not  accustomed 
to  such  things.  Mrs.  Purfle  bustled  about,  and  called  upon  Mr. 
Oliver  to  help  her  take  her  niece  in  the  open  air.  But  the  minister, 


136  WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 

with  a  solemn  air  of  reproof,  just  then  requested  the  congregation 
to  sit  down,  adding,  in  an  authoritative  and  awful  manner, 

"  Deacon  Grinderson  !  will  you  help  that  young  woman  out  ?" 

So  poor  Teeny  was  carried  out,  not  very  gracefully,  by  Deacon 
Grinderson  and  a  young  clod  pole  whom  he  summoned  to  his  aid  ; 
and  it  required  but  very  little  water  dashed  in  her  face  to  bring 
her  to  her  senses,  and  particularly  to  the  sense  that  it  was  "  no 
go,"  as  Tom  would  have  said  if  he  had  understood  the  affair. 

"  Now  cut  her  binder,  and  she'll  do,"  said  Deacon  Grinderson's 
assistant,  borrowing  a  figure  from  the  wheat  field,  as  was  quite 
natural,  seeing  that  Miss  Teeny's  contour,  exclusive  of  the  sup 
plementary  bustle,  was  not  unlike  that  of  a  stout  sheaf.  But 
there  was  very  little  spirit  in  her  just  now. 

We  know  not  that  Miss  Teeny  could  ever  have  been  inspired, 
even  by  the  powerful  afflatus  of  her  aunt's  flattery,  to  make 
another  attempt  at  so  inaccessible  a  heart ;  but,  ere  long,  fate 
threw  in  her  way  an  opportunity  which  skill  could  scarcely  have 
commanded.  She  had  succeeded  in  reducing  herself  by  sighing, 
pickles,  and  silk  braid,  to  something  nearer  a  sentimental  outline, 
when  our  part  of  the  country  was  enlightened  by  a  visit  from  a 
nephew  of  Dr.  Purfle's,  whom  his  lady  had  known  at  the  South 
— a  decided  genius,  and  one  of  the  universal  kind.  This  indi 
vidual  had  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  both  his  feet  by  exposure  at 
the  North,  and  he  would  have  been  at  his  wits'  end  for  a  living 
if  those  wits  had  been  only  as  comprehensive  as  the  wits  of  com 
mon  people.  But  he  managed  to  live  very  much  at  his  ease, 
having  a  man  to  wait  on  him  and  supply  the  only  deficiency  of 
which  he  had  ever  been  conscious.  Mr.  Ashdod  Cockles  came 
among  us  in  the  character  of  an  artist,  having  his  wagon  loaded 
with  wax-figures,  puppets,  magic-lanterns,  and  all  those  tempta 
tions  which  the  pockets  of  western  people,  lank  as  they  are, 
always  find  irresistible — including  a  hand-organ  of  course  ;  and 
he  put  up  at  Mrs.  Purfle's. 

Most  exhilarating  were  the  preparations,  which  now  filled  eve 
rybody's  mouth.  The  village  ball-room  was  to  be  the  scene  of 
the  grand  exhibition  of  Mr.  Cockles'  glory ;  and  the  stairs  which 
led  to  that  honoured  chamber  were  well  worn  during  that  day  of 
ceaseless  bustle  and  excitement.  Not  that  the  common  eye  was 


AMBUSCADES.  139 


permitted  to  get  even  a  glimpse  of  the  mysteries  within,  for  a 
thick  curtain  was  suspended  inside,  so  that  the  assistants  could 
pass  in  and  out  a  hundred  times  without  one's  getting  a  single 
peep.  But  the  boys  and  idlers  still  thought  they  should  see  some 
thing  ;  so  there  they  stayed  from  morning  till  night — scarcely 
taking  time  to  eat. 

But  while  all  promised  so  fair  for  the  multitude,  what  was  the 
surprise  and  grief  of  Mr.  Ashdod  Cockles  to  find  that  one  of  his 
wax  figures,  nay,  the  one  of  all  others  that  he  could  worst  spare, 
had  been  completely  crushed  by  the  superincumbent  weight  of 
the  hand-organ.  The  Sleeping  Beauty  !  That  she  should  have 
been  lost !  What  is  a  wax- work  without  a  Sleeping  Beauty  ! 
Dire  was  the  disappointment  of  Mr.  Cockles,  and  loud  his  la 
mentations,  (in  private,)  and  much  did  he  try  to  make  his  fac 
totum  acknowledge  that  he  had  erred  in  the  packing.  Nick 
knew  his  business  too  well  for  that ;  but  he  nevertheless  conde 
scended  to  suggest  a  remedy — viz. :  that  Mr.  Cockles  should  in 
duce  some  pretty  girl  of  the  village  to  be  dressed  in  the  glittering 
drapery  of  the  crushed  nymph,  and  perform  the  part  for  that 
night  only.  This  seemed  the  more  feasible  that  the  figure  was 
to  be  covered  up  in  bed,  and  the  performance  would  thus  involve 
no  fatigue.  So  it  only  remained  to  obtain  the  handsome  face, 
and  touching  this  delicate  point  Mr.  Cockles  consulted  Mrs. 
Purfle. 

"  Miss  Emmy's  the  prettiest  I"  said  Brim,  who  stood  by  grin 
ning  from  ear  to  ear. 

"'Get  out,  Brim  !"  said  Mrs.  Purfle,  accompanying  the  hint 
with  a  resounding  box  on  the  ear ;  "  get  out !  you're  a  fool  !" 

Then  turning  to  the  artist  with  a  bland  smile,  she  communica 
ted  to  him  in  a  whisper  her  belief  that  Celestina  would  undertake 
the  part,  if  she  was  properly  requested. 

"  Ahem  !"  said  Mr.  Ashdod  Cockles,  who  was  troubled  with  a 
cold ;  "  ahem  !  yes,  ma'am — but  it  would  be  asking  quite  too 
much  of  your  niece.  I  think  we  had  better — " 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all !"  insisted  the  lady ;  "  Teeny  is  so 
obliging  she'll  not  think  anything  of  it.  I'll  ask  her  at  once." 

"  But,"  persisted  Mr.  Cockles,  fidgeting  a  good  deal,  "  she  is 
really  quite  too  short  for  the  character.  A  taller  figure — " 


140  WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 


"  Oh  !  you  forget  she  is  to  be  conveyed  under  the  quilt !  I'll 
manage  all  that,"  said  the  zealous  diplomatist,  "  I'll  dress  her, 
and  everything." 

And  she  left  the  room  and  returned  in  a  very  short  time  with 
Miss  Pye's  unhesitating  consent.  So  Mr.  Cockles  could  not  but 
be  very  much  obliged  ;  and  Mrs.  Purfle,  in  the  highest  spirits, 
sent  Brim  off  at  once  to  Mr.  Oliver's,  to  tell  him  he  must  be  sure 
to  come  to  the  exhibition.  "  And  Brim,"  she  added,  "  if  you  tell 
him  a  word  about  you  know  what,  I'll  skin  ye  !"  A  favourite 
figure  of  speech  of  Mrs.  Purfle's. 

"  What  exhibition  ?"  said  Tom,  who  had  but  just  returned 
from  the  woods. 

"  Oh,  every  thing  in  the  world  !"  said  Brim,  who  was  as  much 
excited  as  any  body ;  "  and  Miss  Teeny — "  but  here  he  thought 
of  his  skin,  and  no  persuasions  of  Tom  could  extort  another  word 
on  that  point,  though  he  was  fluent  on  the  main  subject. 

The  evening  came  at  last,  and  the  weather  chanced  to  be 
pleasanter  than  it  generally  is  on  great  occasions.  The  ball 
room  was  elegantly  fitted  up  with  suspended  crosses  of  wood  stuck 
with  tallow  candles, — rather  drippy,  but  you  must  keep  out  of  their 
way, — (I  have  seen  gentlemen's  coats  completely  iced  with  sper 
maceti,  which,  if  more  genteel,  is  also  more  destructive.)  Instead 
of  glass  cases,  a  screen  or  medium  of  dark-coloured  gauze  was 
interposed  between  the  eye  and  the  wax  figures,  in  order  to  pro 
duce  the  requisite  illusion.  The  puppets  and  the  magic-lantern 
came  first  in  order,  and  so  great  was  the  delight  of  the  spectators 
that  it  would  seem  that  any  after-show  must  have  been  an  anti 
climax  ;  but  the  experienced  Mr.  Cockles  knew  better.  It  was 
not  until  all  this  was  done,  that  he  ordered  Nick  to  draw  aside 
the  baize  which  had  veiled  the  grand  attraction.  Great  clapping 
and  rapping  ensued,  and  it  was  some  time  before  Mr.  Cockles 
could  venture  to  begin,  this  being  a  part  of  the  exhibition  in  which 
he  expected  to  shine  personally. 

"  This,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began,  at  the  upper  end  of 
the  room,  "  this  is  the  New  Orleans  beauty  ;  she  was  engaged 
to  be  married  to  two  gentlemen  at  once,  and  to  avoid  the  torments 
of  jealousy,  they  settled  it  between  'em,  and  first  shot  her  and 


AMBUSCADES  14i 

then  each  other  through  the  heart !  and  they're  all  buried  in  one 
tomb ;  and  I  should  have  had  the  tomb  too,  only  it  was  rather 
heavy  to  carry." 

Every  body  crowded  to  this  interesting  sight. 

"  This,"  continued  the  exhibitor,  in  a  high-toned  and  theatrical 
voice,  waving  at  the  same  time  a  gilded  wand,  which  excited 
much  admiration,  "  is  the  celebrated  Miss  M'Crea  and  her  mur 
derers,  from  likenesses  taken  on  the  spot  by  an  eye-witness." 

A  shudder  ran  through  the  throng  at  this  announcement,  and 
the  grinning  Indians  were  closely  scrutinized,  and  the  fierceness 
and  many  evil  qualities  of  their  race  commented  on  in  an  under 
tone. 

"  Here  is  a  revolutionary  character,  ladies  and  gentlemen," 
Mr.  Cockles  went  on,  as  his  familiar  edged  him  along  on  his 
wheel-chair ;  and  he  pointed  to  a  stumpy  old  man  in  a  blue  coat 
faced  with  red,  who  brandished  a  wooden  sword  as  high  as  the 
ceiling  would  allow. 

"  This  was  one  of  my  forefathers,"  observed  the  orator,  with 
no  little  swell ;  "  my  great-great-grandfather,  or  some  such  rela 
tion.  He  was  a  man  by  the  name  of  Horatio  Cockles,  that  cut 
away  the  bridge  at  Rome  just  as  the  British  was  .coming  across 
it.  You've  all  heard  of  Rome,  I  suppose  ?" 

A  murmur  of  assent  went  round ;  and  one  man  observed,  "  I 
was  born  and  brought  up  within  five  mile  of  it,  but  I  never  heard 
tell  o'  that  'ere  feller  !" 

"  Ay,  yes !  maybe  not,"  said  Mr.  Cockles,  quite  undisturbed, 
"  but  do  you  understand  history  ?" 

The  objector  was  posed,  and  the  orator  proceeded. 

"  This  is  Lay  Fyett,  and  this  is  Bonypart,  with  a  man's  head 
that  he  has  just  cut  off  with  his  sword.  He  used  to  do  that  when 
ever  he  got  mad." 

A  shudder,  with  various  exclamations. 

"  But  here,"  said  Mr.  Cockles,  drawing  aside  with  a  flourish 
ing  air,  a  mysterious-looking  curtain,  which  had  excited  a  good 
deal  of  curiosity  during  the  evening,  "  this  here  is  the  Sleeping 
Beauty.  Her  infant  daughter  got  broke  a-coming." 

And  there  lay  a  female  figure,  in  whose  well-rouged  cheeks 
and  dyed  ringlets  no  one  recognized  the  heiress  of  Mrs.  Purfle's 


142  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

worldly  substance.  Even  the  eyebrows,  which  nature  had  left 
white,  were  entirely  altered  by  the  experienced  skill  of  the  artist, 
who  had  felt  himself  at  liberty  to  put  them  on  where  he  thought 
they  would  look  best,  the  original  ones  being  invisible  by  candle 
light.  A  very  elegant  cap,  full  trimmed  with  artificial  flowers, 
had  been  arranged  by  Mrs.  Purfle;  and  the  sky-blue  pillow 
fringed  with  gold,  and  the  purple  quilt  which  belonged  to  the 
character,  made  altogether  a  very  magnificent  affair,  though  Mr. 
Ashdod  Cockles  had  not  thought  it  prudent  to  suspend  more  than 
a  single  candle  within  the  chintz  curtains  and  the  gauze  blind. 

Just  as  the  concealing  screen  had  been  withdrawn,  and  while 
a  buzz  of  admiration  was  still  in  circulation,  Tom  Oliver,  who 
had  been  in  no  haste  to  obey  Mrs.  Purfle's  hint,  made  his  way 
into  the  room.  He  took  a  momentary  glance  at  the  attractions 
which  lined  the  walls,  and  then  sought  the  object  which  now  fixed 
the  eager  crowd.  It  took  a  good  look  to  satisfy  him  ;  but  with 
the  help  of  Brim's  hint  and  certain  potent  recollections,  the  truth 
came  upon  him  at  once  ;  and  with  a  very  audible  "  pshaw !"  he 
turned  on  his  heel  and  made  for  the  door.  The  string  by  which 
the  Sleeping  Beauty's  candle  was  suspended  passing  along  near 
the  ceiling,  caught  Tom's  cap  in  his  hasty  retreat,  and  ruin  en 
sued.  In  an  instant  Miss  Teeny's  gay  head-dress  was  all  in  a 
blaze,  and  one  whole  side  of  her  curls  was  burnt  off  before  the 
cruel  flames  could  be  smothered.  Tom  was  among  the  most  ac 
tive  in  endeavouring  to  repair  the  mischief  he  had  done,  and  then, 
much  mortified,  darted  out  of  the  room.  As  his  evil  stars  must 
have  decreed,  he  met  Emma  Levering  at  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
and  if  ours  were  of  the  fashionable  single-flight  order,  broken 
bones  would  have  certainly  ensued.  But  most  fortunately  there 
was  a  saving  platform,  which  received  Tom  and  his  victim,  in 
time  to  prevent  so  serious  a  catastrophe.  As  it  was,  however, 
the  pretty  Emma  was  a  good  deal  hurt,  and  to  Tom's  eager  ques 
tions  she  could  only  answer  with  a  burst  of  tears.  So  Tom,  with 
out  ceremony,  caught  her  up  in  his  arms,  and  ran  with  her  to  her 
mother's,  which  was  not  far  distant ;  and  then,  after  more  apol 
ogies  than  he  ever  made  before  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life, 
he  took  his  leave,  and  hid  his  head  beneath  his  own  roof. 

Before  Emma's   bruises  got  well,  it  was  all  over  with  Tom. 


AMBUSCADES.  143 


The  barriers  about  his  heart  seemed  to  have  been  fractured  by 
the  fall ;  and  Cupid  is  not  slow  in  making  the  most  of  such  ad 
vantages.  Tom  Oliver  forgot  to  hunt,  but  occupied  his  time  in 
stead,  in  building  an  addition  to  his  house,  and  putting  a  new  fence 
about  his  door-yard.  What  arguments  he  may  have  found  ne 
cessary  to  overcome  Emma's  resentment  against  him,  we  are  not 
informed  ;  but  we  are  assured  that  it  was  not  until  he  was  obliged 
to  own  she  had  wounded  his  heart  that  he  mustered  courage  to 
tell  her  that  he  came  very  near  being  beforehand  with  her,  away 
ofFin  Jefferson  County.  The  fact  of  their  betrothrnent  became 
known  in  due  time  by  the  lamentations  of  Mrs.  Levering,  who 
thought  it  very  unkind  in  Emma  to  be  willing  to  leave  her  for 
any  body  else.  Few  of  the  neighbours  could  conscientiously 
agree  with  her  in  this  view  of  Emma's  choice.  Most  people 
thought  it  very  natural ;  and  Emma  succeeded  in  reconciling  her 
mother  to  the  change  by  the  suggestion  that  Tom  could  fill  the 
place  which  Jack's  ill-health  prevented  him  from  taking. 

Miss  Pye's  ringlets  were  a  long  time  growing,  during  which 
interval  she  remained  much  at  home,  in  rather  low  spirits.  Em 
ma  is  benevolently  waiting  until  the  fair  Celestina  is  presentable, 
in  order  that  she  may  stand  bridesmaid,  at  her  own  urgent  re 
quest.  Mrs.  Purfle  is  understood  to  have  been  so  much  dis 
couraged  by  the  ill  success  of  her  efforts  in  behalf  of  her  niece, 
that  she  declares  it  her  fixed  determination  to  let  her  take  hei 
chance  in  future.  This  resolve,  if  adhered  to,  gives  hopes  that 
history  may  yet  record  a  happy  termination  of  all  Miss  Pye's 
anxieties;  since,  whether  in  town  or  country,  no  labour  is  more 
apt  to  defeat  itself  than  that  which  has  for  its  object  the  acquisi 
tion  of  the  grand  desideratum — a  husband. 


144  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 


OLD  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NEW  YEAR. 


"  IL  mondo  invecchia 
E  invecchiaudo  intristisce." 

TASSO'S  "  AMINTA." 

The  world  is  growing  older 

And  wiser  day  by  day : 
Every  body  knows  beforehand 

What  you're  going  to  say  ! 
We  used  to  laugh  and  frolic ; 

Now  we  must  behave  ! 
Poor  old  Fun  is  dead  and  buried — 

Pride  dug  his  grave. 

FREE  TRANSLATION. 

THERE  are  doubtless  many  new  things  to  be  said  about  the 
New  Year,  if  one  had  wit  enough  to  think  of  them  ;  but  an'  if 
it  be  not  so,  may  we  not  think  over  our  last  year's  thoughts,  or 
those  which  pleased  us  ten  years  ago  ?  It  is  certain  that  Provi 
dence  sends  us  this  holiday  season,  with  all  its  stirring  influences, 
once  every  year  ;  and  doubtless  intends  it  should  be  enjoyed  by 
thousands  who  never  had  an  original  thought  in  their  lives.  So 
we  will  write  down  our  roving  fancies  as  they  rise,  and  leave 
them  to  be  woven  into  the  fire-light  reveries  of  just  such  com- 
fortable  people. 

"  What  does  *  holiday'  mean,  George  ?"  said  we  once  to  a 
shouting  urchin  of  some  seven  years  standing,  as  he  was  tossing 
up  his  cap  and  huzzaing  at  the  thought  of  a  vacation.  "  What 
does  '  holiday'  mean  ?" 

He  stopped,  looked  serious,  and  then  replied 

"  Why — I  don't  know — but — I  always  thought  it  was  because 
the  boys  holla  so  when  they  are  let  out  of  school." 

We  predicted  on  the  spot  that  George  would  write  a  dictionary 


OLD  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NEW  YEAR.  145 

if  he  lived  long  enough.  A  decidedly  etymological  genius,  and 
quite  original  ;  for  he  owed  hut  little  to  hooks,  to  our  certain 
knowledge. 

We  cannot  hope  to  make  as  lucky  a  guess  on  the  origin  of  the 
New  Year  festival  ;  but  we  will  venture  to  say,  nothing  could  be 
more  natural  than  the  disposition  to  observe  this  way-mark  on 
life's  swift- rolling  course.  In  proof  of  this,  the  practice  of  noti 
cing  anniversaries  has  prevailed  from  the  earliest  times.  It  is  only 
in  these  wondrously  wise  days,  that  the  notion  has  arisen  that  it 
is  being  too  minute  and  vulgar  to  recognize  occasions  so  revered 
by  our  fathers  : 

"  We  take  no  note  of  time  save  by  its  loss," 

in  another  sense  than  that  of  the  poet.  We  are  disposed  to  "  cut  " 
holidays,  as  we  do  other  antiquated  worthies.  Then  again  the 
young  and  gay,  in  the  levity  of  their  hearts,  think  it  tedious  to 
mingle  with  their  joyance  any  touch  of  old-time  remembrances. 
We  admit  that  the  New  Year,  though  a  season  for  placid  and 
hopeful  smiles,  is  scarcely  one  for  laughter  ;  yet  we  might  (under 
privilege  of  our  gravity,)  inquire  whether  an  element  of  sobriety 
may  not  sometimes  be  profitable,  even  in  our  pleasure.  The  be 
reaved  and  sorrowful  tell  us  that  the  habit  of  commemorating 
particular  days  only  makes  more  striking  the  chill  blanks  in  the 
social  circle  ;  pointing  out  the  vacant  chair  ;  recalling  the  miss 
ing  voice,  already  but  too  keenly  remembered.  This  is  true  ; 
but  while  sorrow  is  yet  new  and  fresh,  what  is  there  that  does 
not  bring  up  the  beloved  ?  And  after  the  great  Consoler  has 
done  his  blessed  office,  and  grief  is  mellowed  into  sadness,  do  we 
not  attach  a  double  value  to  whatever  awakens  most  vividly  the 
cherished  memory  ? 

Gifts  and  keepsakes  and  little  surprises  used  to  be  a  pretty  part 
of  the  holiday  season  ;  and  in  Europe  the  New  Year  is  still  the 
time  of  all  others  for  cadeaux,  and  souvenirs,  and  gages  d'amitie, 
and  gages  d'amour.  But  the  increase  of  luxury  and  the  cultiva 
tion  of  pride  have  almost  spoiled  all  these  pleasant  things  for  us. 
I  fear  we  have  leavened  such  matters  with  the  commercial  spirit . 
Presents  are  made  a  sort  of  traffic,  or  a  device  of  ostentation. 
When  emulation  begins,  sentiment  is  lost.  The  moment  we  ad- 

11 


146  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

mit  the  idea  that  our  generosity  or  our  splendour  will  attract  ad 
miration  ;  the  moment  we  think  that  our  friend,  if  poor,  will  re 
ceive  our  new-year  gift  as  payment  for  some  past  kindness,  or,  if 
rich,  that  he  will  be  sure  to  give  something  still  more  elegant  in 
return,  the  present  is  degraded  into  an  article  of  merchandise. 
Indeed,  costliness  is  no  proper  element  of  a  mere  present,  since  a 
symbol  is  all  we  want. 

In  England  the  celebration  of  New  Year  is  almost  lost  in  that 
of  Christmas,  which  is  a  high  and  universal  festival ;  whether 
kept  exactly  in  accordance  with  its  true  meaning  and  intent  we 
shall  not  here  stop  to  inquire.  Be  this  as  it  may,  its  approach 
arouses  "  the  fast-anchor'd  isle"  to  its  very  heart.  Even  thread 
bare  court-gaiety  receives  an  accession  of  something  like  sentient 
life  ;  and  maids  of  honour  new  furbish  their  languid  smiles,  and 
gentlemen-in-waiting  pocket  their  scented  'kerchiefs,  no  longer 
needed  to  veil  inadmissible  yawns.  If  high  life  brighten,  how 
much  more  the  common  folk,  always  so  wisely  ready  to  be 
pleased  !  The  housekeeper  spends  her  evenings  for  six  weeks 
stoning  "  plums"  in  preparation  for  prelatic  mince-pies  and  na 
tional  puddings.  Huge  sirloins  of  beef  jostle  at  the  corners  of  the 
streets.  The  confectioner  gives  an  additional  touch  of  enchant 
ment  to  his  sparkling  paradise,  which  needed  not  this  to  make  it 
Irresistible  to  the  longing  eyes  that  linger  round  it,  unconsciously 
endowing  each  individual  temptation  with  the  dazzling  beauty 
ol'the  whole,  and  so  really  coveting  all,  though  wishing  only  for 
a  modest  portion.  Christmas  taxes  all  the  invention  of  all  the 
artists  in  Pleasure's  train  for  the  production  of  novelties  and  ex 
cellences  in  their  several  departments,  and  as  there  is  not  time 
lor  a  renewal  of  energy  before  New  Year,  they  blend  the  two 
occasions,  and  rejoice  double  tides.  Even  the  poet,  though  not 
always  in  the  way  when  money  is  to  be  made,  finds  his  services 
now  in  request,  and  enjoys  the  farther  delight  of  hearing  his  dar 
ling  verses  chanted  by  the  far-sounding  throat  of  the  street-singer: 
true  fame  this,  and  not  posthumous,  like  that  of  most  poets. 
Verses  like  those  which  follow,  married  to  airs  well  deserving 
such  union,  awaken  the  Queen's  subjects  earlier  than  they  like 
on  Christmas  morning : 


OLD  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NEW  YEAR.  147 

"  The  rnoon  shines  bright 
And  the  stars  give  a  light 
A  little  before  'tis  day, 
And  bid  us  awake  and  pray. 
Awake  !  awake  !  good  people  all ! 
Awake  and  you  shall  hear     . 

The  life  of  Man 
Is  but  a  span, 

And  cut  down  in  his  flower. 
We're  here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow  ; 

We're  all  dead  in  an  hour. 

"  O  teach  well  your  children,  men, 

The  while  that  you  are  here  ; 
It  will  be  better  for  your  souls 

When  your  corpse  lie  on  the  bier. 

"  To-day  you  may  be  alive,  dear  man, 

With  many  a  thousand  pound  ; 
To-inorrow  you  may  be  dead,  dear  man, 

And  your  corpse  laid  under  ground  ; 
With  a  turf  at  your  head,  dear  man, 

And  another  at  your  feet ; 
Your  good  deeds  and  your  bad  ones 

They  will  together  meet. 
God  bless  the  ruler  of  this  house 

And  send  him  long  to  reign  ; 
And  many  a  happy  Christmas 

May  he  live  to  see  again. 

"  My  song  is  done,  I  must  be  gone  ; 

I  can  stay  no  longer  here  ; 
God  bless  you  all,  both  great  and  small, 
And  send  you  a  jovial  New  Year." 

So  runs  a  "  Christmas  carol,"  entitled  "  Divine  Mirth,"  bought 
in  the  streets  of  London  not  many  years  ago.  But  we  are  like 
our  transatlantic  neighbours — letting  Christmas  swallow  up  New 
Year.  To  return  from  these  "  specimens  of  English  poetry." 

We  KNICKERBOCKERS  date  our  New- Year  festivities  from  our 
honoured  Dutch  progenitors  ;  and  it  should  be  considered  treason 
even  to  propose  the  discontinuance  of  such  time-honoured  com- 
rnemorations.  Among  the  innovations  of  the  day,  few  try  our 
patience  more  severely  than  those  pseudo-refinements  upon  plea- 


148  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

sure,  which  have  been  devised  by  the  little  great  and  the  meanly 
proud  of  our  land,  who  in  their  agonizing  efforts  after  a  superiority 
to  which  neither  nature  nor  education  has  given  them  a  claim, 
hesitate  not  to  sacrifice  much  for  which  they  will  never  offer  an 
equivalent  to  society.  An  adherence  to  ancient  usages  belongs 
to  those  who  are  accustomed  to  the  enjoyments  of  wealth,  and 
covet  the  heightening  power  of  association ;  who  feel  their  posi 
tion  to  be  secure,  and  therefore  enjoy  it  with  dignity,  and  make 
no  feverish  efforts  at  display.  These  still  keep  up  the  social 
round  on  the  first  day  of  the  year,  with  its  cordial  greeting,  its 
hospitable  welcome,  and  its  whole-souled  abandon,  symbolical  at 
least  of  a  forgetting  of  all  causes  of  feud,  and  a  renewing  of  an 
cient  good-will,  however  interrupted.  There  is  a  primitive  relish 
about  these  things  to  those  who  understand  them ;  but  to  the 
merely  fashionable,  who  think  only  of  the  quantity  of  plate  which 
it  is  possible  to  exhibit  on  the  occasion,  the  splendour  and  costli 
ness  ot  the  refreshments,  and  above  all,  the  number  of  stylish 
names  which  may  be  enrolled  among  the  hundreds  of  unmeaning 
visiters,  it  is  caviare  indeed.  Their  spirit  is  a  profane  one  ;  it 
fancies  that  money  will  buy  every  thing. 

We  would  not  insist  upon  the  full  adherence  to  primitive  cus 
toms;  since  that  would  include  rather  more  stimulus  than  accords 
with  our  notions  of  propriety  ;  and  we  have  heard  too  that  the 
KNICKERBOCKER  practice  of  presenting  each  guest  with  a  shield- 
like  "  cookie,"  though  an  excellent  one  for  the  bakers,  was  wont  to 
prove  rather  inconvenient  to  some  thorough-going  visiters,  who 
were  in  danger  of  meeting  with  the  fate  of  the  damsel  of  old, 
who  was  crushed  under  the  weight  of  gifts  somewhat  similar. 
Tradition  informs  us  that  the  Dutch  Dominies,  who  were  especial 
favourites,  used  to  be  obliged  to  leave  whole  pyramids  of  splendid 
cookies — suns,  moons,  General  Washington,  Santa-Glaus,  and  all 
— at  the  houses  of  tried  friends,  to  be  sent  for  next  morning.  We 
would  not  ask  so  minute  an  observance  of  the  customs  of  Nieuw- 
Amsterdam,  but  we  plead  for  the  main  point,  the  festival,  with 
the  hearty,  social  feeling  that  gives  value  to  it.  This  may  be 
unfashionable  in  some  quarters,  but  it  is  human,  and  gives  occa 
sion  for  one  of  the  too  few  recognitions  of  a  common  nature  and 
a  common  interest.  But,  strange  power  of  fancy  !  here  we  are 


OLD  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NEW  YEAR       149 

carried  back  to  all  the  bustle  and  excitement  of  a  New-Year's 
day  in  the  city.  What  a  contrast  to  the  realities  around  us ! 
This  bright,  soft-singing  wood  fire,  crackling  occasionally  with 
that  mysterious  sound  which  the  good  vrouws  call  "  treading 
snow,"  and  which  they  hold  to  foretell  sleighing;  the  cat  coiled 
up  cozily  on  the  hearth-rug,  fast  asleep ;  even  the  sounds  which 
but  just  reach  the  ear  when  the  ground  is  dry  and  bare,  now 
hushed  by  the  thick  covering  of  snow  out  of  doors ;  now  and 
then  a  low,  black  sled  moving  silently  along  the  road  ;  and  still 
more  seldom  a  solitary  foot-passenger,  with  his  rifle  or  his  axe 
on  his  shoulder ;  how  can  we  imagine  to  ourselves  the  thronging 
crowds  that  make  the  very  stones  resound  under  the  thousand  ve 
hicles  and  quick  trampling  feet  in  the  great  thoroughfares  ?  Not 
Imagination  but  Memory  lends  her  aid  in  this  instance ;  Memory, 
never  more  faithful  than  when  she  recalls  to  the  emigrant  the 
home-scenes  of  former  days.  Yet  we  ought  hardly  to  call  her 
faithful,  for  she  always  reverses  rules  in  her  pictures,  placing  her 
brightest  tints  in  the  back-ground.  Brilliant  lights,  with  only 
shadow  enough  to  bring  them  out,  characterize  her  distant  views, 
and  this  is  no  true  perspective,  though  we  are  prone  to  put  faith 
in  it.  We  must  not  use  such  views  for  studies. 

Far  removed  from  all  the  pleasurable  associations  of  this  period, 
we  too  hail  the  New  Year,  but  not  with  the  old  feeling.  We  wish 
each  other  a  "  happy  new  year"  as  usual,  but  there  is  a  touch 
of  sadness  in  our  greeting.  Our  new  homes  have  not  yet  the 
warmth  of  the  old ;  there  is  a  chill  hanging  about  them  still, 
especially  at  these  seasons  when  we  recall  the  warm  grasp  of 
early  friends.  The  young  only  are  thoroughly  gay  here.  They 
dwell  not  on  the  past ;  they  trouble  not  their  heads  about  the 
future.  They  have  an  ever-welling  fount  of  happiness  within  ; 
while  we,  their  elders,  are  compelled  to  dig  deep,  and  sometimes 
even  then  strike  no  vein.  To  them,  sport  in  the  wilds  is  as  good 
as  sport  any  where  else.  They  skate,  they  slide,  they  run  races  ; 
they  take  the  hill-side  with  their  rough,  home-made  sleds,  and 
they  ask  nothing  better.  This  for  the  younger  scions.  Those  a 
step  more  advanced,  get  up  shooting-matches,  or  dancing-matches  ; 
pleasure  on  a  more  dignified  scale.  We  will  not  describe  that 
vile  form  of  the  shooting-match,  wherein  a  poor  turkey  is  tied  to 


150  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

a  post,  to  be  mangled  in  cold  blood  by  the  boobies  of  the  neighbour 
hood  ;  those  who  never  fired  a  shot  in  their  lives  taking  the  lead  ;  as 
when  a  number  of  lawyers  are  to  speak  on  the  same  side,  those 
who  are  not  expected  to  hit  at  all  are  placed  first.  This  is  a  cruel, 
unmanly,  un- western  sport,  and  should  be  scorned  by  the  forester. 
He  has  been  driven  to  it  by  the  unnatural  lack  of  all  decent  and 
proper  amusement.  The  true  shooting-match,  when  conducted 
on  the  large  scale,  affords  famous  sport.  Two  parties,  matched 
and  balanced  as  nearly  as  may  be  in  skill  and  numbers,  and  each 
commanded  by  a  leader  chosen  on  account  of  his  general  qualifi 
cations,  social  as  well  as  sporting,  set  out  at  break  of  day,  in 
different  directions  ;  it  makes  but  little  difference  which  way, 
since  game  is  plenty  at  all  points.  A  time  and  place  of  rendez 
vous  are  appointed,  and  certain  kinds  of  game  prescribed  as 
within  the  rules  ;  and  each  party,  collectively  or  severally,  as 
circumstances  may  require,  makes  as  wide  a  search  as  time  will 
allow,  and  brings  down  as  many  deer,  partridges,  quails,  etc.,  as 
possible ;  horses  being  in  attendance  to  bear  home  the  fortune  of 
the  day.  At  the  place  appointed  the  whole  is  examined,  counted 
and  judged,  according  to  the  rules  and  rates  agreed  on,  arid 
umpires  then  award  the  palm  of  victory.  "  To  the  victors  belong 
the  spoils"  of  course  ;  so  the  vanquished  furnish  the  evening's 
entertainment,  except  that  the  game  is  common  property.  This 
makes  no  contemptible  New  Year's  day  for  the  young  men  ;  and 
choice  game  is  not  despised  as  the  substantial  part  of  the  supper 
which  succeeds  or  rather  divides  what  we  mentioned  awhile  ago 
— a  dancing-match. 

This,  we  should  think,  must  be  more  laborious  even  than  the 
shooting-match  ;  at  least  it  is  more  like  steady,  serious,  unremit 
ting  work.  Two  in  the  afternoon  is  not  too  soon  to  begin,  nor  six 
in  the  morning  too  late  to  finish.  Now  if  this  be  not  a  trial  of 
strength,  what  is  ?  It  proves  so  ;  for  only  the  most  resolute  hold 
out  through  the  whole  time.  Even  they  would  doubtless  flag 
were  it  not  for  the  supper  at  which  we  have  hinted  above,  of 
which  (to  their  honour  be  it  spoken)  our  rustic  damsels  are  not 
too  affected  to  be  willing  to  partake  with  good  will  and  without 
mincing.  They  dance  "  the  old  year  out  and  the  new  year  in," 
sometimes  ;  but  usually  the  ball  closes  the  sports  of  New-Year's 


OLD  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  NEW  YEAR.  151 

day,  and  you  may  see  them  as  the  sun  is  rising  on  the  second 
day  of  the  year,  sleigh-load  after  sleigh-load,  going  home  as 
merry  as  larks,  under  the  care  of  their  stout  beaux,  not  half  so 
tired  as  a  city  belle  is  after  walking  through  a  cotillon. 

Sometimes  the  snow  is  so  fine  that  a  grand  sleigh-ride  takes  the 
place  of  the  grand  hunt  on  this  day.  As  many  as  possible  are 
engaged,  and  they  go  off  some  fifteen  or  twenty  or  thirty  miles, 
with  as  many  strings  of  bells  as  can  be  raised  for  the  occasion, 
and  have  an  impromptu  supper  and  dance,  and  return  home  by 
moonlight.  One  indispensable  condition  of  such  a  party  is  an  ex 
act  pairing — an  Adam  and  Eve  division  of  the  company  ;  so  that 
if  a  single  nymph  or  swain  be  missing  before  the  day  arrives,  and 
no  one  is  found  to  supply  the  vacancy,  the  counterpart  shares  the 
misfortune,  and  remains  at  home.  We  have  known  companies 
where  an  approach  to  this  rule — a  belle  to  every  beau — would 
have  been  convenient,  and  saved  some  sour  looks.  Here  it  is  all 
in  good  faith,  and  the  appropriation  very  strict,  for  the  time  being ; 
and  particular  attention  or  graciousness  to  more  than  one  of  the 
party  is  contrary  to  etiquette.  The  pairs  speak  of  each  other  as 
"  my  mate,"  with  all  the  gravity  imaginable. 

After  all,  these  are  the  people  who  taste  the  true  sweets  of 
pleasure,  strictly  so  called.  They  enjoy  themselves  freely  and 
heartily,  caring  nothing  for  what  those  very  dignified  and  rather 
dull  people  who  call  themselves  "the  world"  may  think  of  their 
dress  or  their  dancing.  It  would  not  give  them  a  moment's  con 
cern  to  be  told  that  people  a  hundred  miles  off  thought  them  half 
savages.  And  nothing  would  be  so  odious  to  them  as  the  cere 
mony,  the  constraint,  the  clatter,  and  the  stupidity  of  many  an 
unmeaning  fashionable  party.  They  would  hardly  believe  you 
if  you  should  tell  them  that  people  really  do  get  together  at  great 
cost  arid  trouble  to  look  at  each  other's  dresses  and  a  decorated 
supper-table,  and  go  hom^gain.  "What!  no  music!  no  dan 
cing  !  no  nothing  !  Awful !  I'd  ruther  spin  wool  all  day  !" 

To  those  of  us  who  have  done  with  all  these  things  ;  whose 
"  dancing  days  are  over,"  and  who  are  studying  the  difficult  art 
of  "  growing  old  gracefully,"  the  coming  of  another  year  brings 
reflection,  if  not  sadness.  "  What  shadows  we  are,  and  what 
shadows  we  pursue  !"  Who  can  stand  upon  the  verge  of  another 


152  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


era,  \\iihout  emotion  ?  Who  docs  not  feel,  as  this  change  passes 
before  him,  something  of  the  awe  that  thrilled  the  veins  of  him  who 
saw  "an  image"  but  "could  not  discern  the  form  thereof?" 
How  little  can  we  guess  of  this  turning  leaf  in  our  destiny  !  If 
the  heart  be  light,  we  read  on  the  dim  scroll  words  of  soft  and 
sweet  promise,  traced  by  the  ready  fingers  of  Hope.  If  there  be 
a  cloud  on  the  spirit,  we  can  discern  only  characters  gloomy  as 
any  that  remain  of  memory's  writing  ;  while  perhaps  that  Eye 
from  which  nothing  is  hidden,  sees  Death  sweeping  with  his  dark 
wing  all  that  fond  imagination  had  presented  to  our  view,  leaving 
our  part  in  this  life's  future,  one  chill  blank.  Blessed  be  God  that 
our  eyes  are  "  holden  !"  To  HIM  who  has  controlled  the  past  ;n 
love  and  mercy,  we  may  safely  commit  the  future. 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  PROGRESS.  153 


THE   SCHOOLMASTER'S   PROGRESS. 


MASTER  WILLIAM  HORNER  came  to  our  village  to  keep  school 
when  he  was  about  eighteen  years  old  :  tall,  lank,  straight- sided, 
and  straight-haired,  with  a  mouth  of  the  most  puckered  and  sol 
emn  kind.  His  figure  and  movements  were  those  of  a  puppet 
cut  out  of  shingle  and  jerked  by  a  string  ;  and  his  address  cor 
responded  very  well  with  his  appearance.  Never  did  that  prim 
mouth  give  way  before  a  laugh.  A  faint  and  misty  smile  was 
the  widest  departure  from  its  propriety,  and  this  unaccustomed 
disturbance  made  wrinkles  in  the  flat  skinny  cheeks  like  those  in 
the  surface  of  a  lake,  after  the  intrusion  of  a  stone.  Master  Hor- 
ner  knew  well  what  belonged  to  the  pedagogical  character,  and 
that  facial  solemnity  stood  high  on  the  list  of  indispensable  quali 
fications.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  before  he  left  his  father's 
house  how  he  would  look  during  the  term.  He  had  not  planned 
any  smiles,  (knowing  that  he  must  "  board  round"),  and  it  was 
not  for  ordinary  occurrences  to  alter  his  arrangements ;  so  that 
when  he  was  betrayed  into  a  relaxation  of  the  muscles,  it  was 
"  in  such  a  sort"  as  if  he  was  putting  his  bread  and  butter  in 
jeopardy. 

Truly  he  had  a  grave  time  that  first  winter.  The  rod  of 
power  was  new  to  him,  and  he  felt  it  his  "  duty"  to  use  it  more 
frequently  than  might  have  been  thought  necessary  by  those  upon 
whose  sense  the  privilege  had  palled.  Tears  and  sulky  faces, 
and  impotent  fists  doubled  fiercely  when  his  back  was  turned, 
were  the  rewards  of  his  conscientiousness ;  and  the  boys — and 
girls  too — were  glad  when  working  time  came  round  again,  and 
the  master  went  home  to  help  his  father  on  the  farm. 

But  with  the  autumn  came  Master  Horner  again,  dropping 
among  us  as  quietly  as  the  faded  leaves,  and  awakening  at  least 


154  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

as  much  serious  reflection.  Would  he  be  as  self-sacrificing  as 
before,  postponing  his  own  ease  and  comfort  to  the  public  good  ? 
or  would  he  have  become  more  sedentary,  and  less  fond  of  cir 
cumambulating  the  school-room  with  a  switch  over  his  shoulder? 
Many  were  fain  to  hope  he  might  have  learned  to  smoke  during 
the*  summer,  an  accomplishment  which  would  probably  have 
moderated  his  energy  not  a  little,  and  disposed  him  rather  to 
reverie  than  to  action.  But  here  he  was,  and  all  the  broader- 
chested  and  stouter-armed  for  his  labours  in  the  harvest-field. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  Master  Homer  was  of  a  cruel  and 
ogrish  nature — a  babe-eater — a  Herod — one  who  delighted  in 
torturing  the  helpless.  Such  souls  there  may  be,  among  those 
endowed  with  the  awful  control  of  the  ferule,  but  they  are  rare 
in  the  fresh  and  natural  regions  we  describe.  It  is,  we  believe, 
where  young  gentlemen  are  to  be  crammed  for  college,  that  the 
process  of  hardening  heart  and  skin  together  goes  on  most  vigor 
ously.  Yet  among  the  uneducated  there  is  so  high  a  respect  for 
bodily  strength,  that  it  is  necessary  for  the  schoolmaster  to  show, 
first  of  all,  that  he  possesses  this  inamissible  requisite  for  his  place. 
The  rest  is  more  readily  taken  for  granted.  Brains  he  may  have 
— a  strong  arm  he  must  have :  so  he  proves  the  more  important 
claim  first.  We  must  therefore  make  all  due  allowance  for  Mas 
ter  Homer,  who  could  not  be  expected  to  overtop  his  position  so 
far  as  to  discern  at  once  the  philosophy  of  teaching. 

He  was  sadly  brow-beaten  during  his  first  term  of  service  by 
a  great  broad-shouldered  lout  of  some  eighteen  years  or  so,  who 
thought  he  needed  a  little  more  "  schooling,"  but  at  the  same 
time  felt  quite  competent  to  direct  the  manner  and  measure  of  his 
attempts. 

"  You'd  ought  to  begin  with  large-hand,  Joshuay,"  said  Master 
Horner  to  this  youth. 

"  What  should  I  want  coarse-hand  for  ?"  said  the  disciple,  with 
great  contempt ;  "  coarse-hand  won't  never  do  me  no  good.  I 
want  a  fine-hand  copy." 

The  master  looked  at  the  infant  giant,  and  did  as  he  wished, 
but  we  say  not  with  what  secret  resolutions. 

At  another  time,  Master  Horner,  having  had  a  hint  from  somo 
one  more  knowing  than  himself,  proposed  to  his  elder  scholars  to 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  PROGRESS.  155 


write  after  dictation,  expatiating  at  the  same  time  quite  floridly, 
(the  ideas  having  been  supplied  by  the  knowing  friend,)  upon  the 
advantages  likely  to  arise  from  this  practice,  and  saying,  among 
other  things, 

"  It  will  help  you,  when  you  write  letters,  to  spell  the  words 
good." 

"  Pooh !"  said  Joshua,  "  spellin'  ain't  nothin' ;  let  them  that 
finds  the  mistakes  correct  'em.  I'm  for  every  one's  havin'  a 
way  of  their  own."* 

"  How  dared  you  be  so  saucy  to  the  master  ?"  asked  one  of 
the  little  boys,  after  school. 

"  Because  I  could  lick  him,  easy,"  said  the  hopeful  Joshua, 
who  knew  very  well  why  the  master  did  not  undertake  him  on 
the  spot. 

Can  we  wonder  that  Master  Homer  determined  to  make  his 
empire  good  as  far  as  it  went  ? 

A  new  examination  was  required  on  the  entrance  into  a  second 
term,  and,  with  whatever  secret  trepidation,  the  master  was  obliged 
to  submit.  Our  law  prescribes  examinations,  but  forgets  to  pro 
vide  for  the  competency  of  the  examiners ;  so  that  few  better 
farces  offer,  than  the  course  of  question  and  answer  on  these  oc 
casions.  We  know  not  precisely  what  were  Master  Homer's 
trials;  but  we  have  heard  of  a  sharp  dispute  between  the  inspec 
tors  whether  angel  spelt  angle  or  angel.  Angle  had  it,  and 
the  school  maintained  that  pronunciation  ever  after.  Master 
Homer  passed,  and  he  was  requested  to  draw  up  the  certificate 
for  the  inspectors  to  sign,  as  one  had  left  his  spectacles  at  home, 
and  the  other  had  a  bad  cold,  so  that  it  was  not  convenient  for 
either  to  write  more  than  his  name.  Master  Horner's  exhibition 
of  learning  on  this  occasion  did  not  reach  us,  but  we  know  that 
it  must  have  been  considerable,  since  he  stood  the  ordeal. 

"  What  is  Orthography  ?"  said  an  inspector  once,  in  our  pres 
ence. 

The  candidate  writhed  a  good  deal,  studied  the  beams  overhead 
and  the  chickens  out  of  the  window,  and  then  replied, 

"  It  is  so  long  since  I  learnt  the  first  part  of  the  spelling-book, 

*  Verbatim. 


156  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


that  I  can't  justly  answer  that  question.  But  if  I  could  just  look 
it  over,  I  guess  I  could." 

Our  schoolmaster  entered  upon  his  second  term  with  new  cour 
age  and  invigorated  authority.  Twice  certified,  who  should  dare 
doubt  his  competency  ?  Even  Joshua  was  civil,  and  lesser  louts 
of  course  obsequious ;  though  the  girls  took  more  liberties  ;  for 
they  feel  even  at  that  early  age,  that  influence  is  stronger  than 
strength. 

Could  a  young  schoolmaster  think  of  feruling  a  girl  with  her 
hair  in  ringlets  and  a  gold  ring  on  her  finger  ?  Impossible — and 
the  immunity  extended  to  all  the  little  sisters  and  cousins ;  and 
there  were  enough  large  girls  to  protect  all  the  feminine  part  of 
the  school.  With  the  boys  Master  Horner  still  had  many  a  bat 
tle,  and  whether  with  a  view  to  this,  or  as  an  economical  ruse, 
he  never  wore  his  coat  in  school,  saying  it  was  too  warm.  Per 
haps  it  was  an  astute  attention  to  the  prejudices  of  his  employ 
ers,  who  love  no  man  that  does  not  earn  his  living  by  the  sweat 
of  his  brow.  The  shirt-sleeves  gave  the  idea  of  a  manual-labour 
school  in  one  sense  at  least.  It  was  evident  that  the  master 
worked,  and  that  afforded  a  probability  that  the  scholars  worked 
too. 

Master  Horner's  success  was  most  triumphant  that  winter.  A 
year's  growth  had  improved  his  outward  man  exceedingly,  filling 
out  the  limbs  so  that  they  did  not  remind  you  so  forcibly  of  a 
young  colt's,  and  supplying  the  cheeks  with  the  flesh  and  blood 
so  necessary  where  moustaches  were  not  worn.  Experience  had 
given  him  a  degree  of  confidence,  and  confidence  gave  him 
power.  In  short,  people  said  the  master  had  waked  up ;  and  so 
he  had.  He  actually  set  about  reading  for  improvement ;  and 
although  at  the  end  of  the  term  he  could  not  quite  make  out  from 
his  historical  studies  which  side  Hannibal  was  on,  yet  this  is  read 
ily  explained  by  the  fact  that  he  boarded  round,  and  was  obli 
ged  to  read  generally  by  firelight,  surrounded  by  ungoverned  chil 
dren. 

After  this,  Master  Horner  made  his  own  bargain.  When 
school-time  came  round  with  the  following  autumn,  and  the  teach 
er  presented  himself  for  a  third  examination,  such  a  test  was  pro 
nounced  no  longor  necessary ;  and  the  district  consented  to  en- 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  PROGRESS.  157 


gage  him  at  the  astounding  rate  of  sixteen  dollars  a  month,  with 
the  understanding  that  he  was  to  have  a  fixed  home,  provided  he 
was  willing  to  allow  a  dollar  a  week  for  it.  Master  Horner  be 
thought  him  of  the  successive  "  killing-times,"  and  consequent 
dough-nuts  of  the  twenty  families  in  which  he  had  sojourned  the 
years  before,  and  consented  to  the  exaction. 

Behold  our  friend  now  as  high  as  district  teacher  can  ever  hope 
to  be — his  scholarship  established,  his  home  stationary  and  not 
revolving,  and  the  good  behaviour  of  the  community  insured  by 
the  fact  that  he,  being  of  age,  had  now  a  farm  to  retire  upon  in 
case  of  any  disgust. 

Master  Horner  was  at  once  the  pre-eminent  beau  of  the  neigh 
bourhood,  spite  of  the  prejudice  against  learning.  He  brushed 
his  hair  straight  up  in  front,  and  wore  a  sky-blue  riband  for  a 
guard  to  his  silver  watch,  and  walked  as  if  the  tall  heels  of  his 
blunt  boots  were  egg-shells  and  not  leather.  Yet  he  was  far  from 
neglecting  the  duties  of  his  place.  He  was  beau  only  on  Sun 
days  and  holidays ;  very  schoolmaster  the  rest  of  the  time. 

It  was  at  a  "  spelling-school"  that  Master  Horner  first  met  the 
educated  eyes  of  Miss  Harriet  Bangle,  a  young  lady  visiting  the 
Engleharts  in  our  neighbourhood.  She  was  from  one  of  the 
towns  in  Western  New  York,  and  had  brought  with  her  a  vari 
ety  of  city  airs  and  graces  somewhat  caricatured,  set  off  with 
year-old  French  fashions  much  travestied.  Whether  she  had  been 
sent  out  to  the  new  country  to  try,  somewhat  late,  a  rustic  chance 
for  an  establishment,  or  whether  her  company  had  been  found 
rather  trying  at  home,  we  cannot  say.  The  view  which  she  was 
at  some  pains  to  make  understood  was,  that  her  friends  had  con 
trived  this  method  of  keeping  her  out  of  the  way  of  a  desperate 
lover  whose  addresses  were  not  acceptable  to  them. 

If  it  should  seem  surprising  that  so  high-bred  a  visiter  should 
be  sojourning  in  the  wild  woods,  it  must  be  remembered  that  more 
than  one  celebrated  Englishman  and  not  a  few  distinguished 
Americans  have  farmer  brothers  in  the  western  country,  no  whit 
less  rustic  in  their  exterior  and  manner  of  life  than  the  plainest 
of  their  neighbours.  When  these  are  visited  by  their  refined 
kinsfolk,  we  of  the  woods  catch  glimpses  of  the  gay  world,  or 
think  we  do. 


158  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

"  That  great  medicine  hath 
With  its  tinct  gilded — " 

many  a  vulgarism  to  the  satisfaction  of  wiser  heads  than  ours. 

Miss  Bangle's  manner  bespoke  for  her  that  high  consideration 
which  she  felt  to  be  her  due.  Yet  she  condescended  to  be  amused 
by  the  rustics  and  their  awkward  attempts  at  gaiety  and  ele 
gance  ;  and,  to  say  truth,  few  of  the  village  merry-makings  es 
caped  her,  though  she  wore  always  the  air  of  great  superiority. 

The  spelling-school  is  one  of  the  ordinary  winter  amusements 
in  the  country.  It  occurs  once  in  a  fortnight,  or  so,  and  has 
power  to  draw  out  all  the  young  people  for  miles  round,  arrayed 
in  their  best  clothes  and  their  holiday  behaviour.  When  all  is 
ready,  umpires  are  elected,  and  after  these  have  taken  the  distin 
guished  place  usually  occupied  by  the  teacher,  the  young  people 
of  the  school  choose  the  two  best  scholars  to  head  the  opposing 
classes.  These  leaders  choose  their  followers  from  the  mass,  each 
calling  a  name  in  turn,  until  all  the  spellers  are  ranked  on  one 
side  or  the  other,  lining  the  sides  of  the  room,  and  all  standing. 
The  schoolmaster,  standing  too,  takes  his  spelling-book,  and  gives 
a  placid  yet  awe-inspiring  look  along  the  ranks,  remarking  that 
he  intends  to  be  very  impartial,  and  that  he  shall  give  out  nothing 
that  is  not  in  the  spelling-book.  For  the  first  half  hour  or  so  he 
chooses  common  and  easy  words,  that  the  spirit  of  the  evening 
may  not  be  damped  by  the  too  early  thinning  of  the  classes. 
When  a  word  is  missed,  the  blunderer  has  to  sit  down,  and  be  a 
spectator  only  for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  At  certain  intervals, 
some  of  the  best  speakers  mount  the  platform,  and  "  speak  a 
piece,"  which  is  generally  as  declamatory  as  possible. 

The  excitement  of  this  scene  is  equal  to  that  afforded  by  any 
city  spectacle  whatever ;  and  towards  the  close  of  the  evening, 
when  difficult  and  unusual  words  are  chosen  to  confound  the 
small  number  who  still  keep  the  floor,  it  becomes  scarcely  less 
than  painful.  When  perhaps  only  one  or  two  remain  to  be 
puzzled,  the  master,  weary  at  last  of  his  task,  though  a  favourite 
one,  tries  by  tricks  to  put  down  those  whom  he  cannot  overcome 
in  fair  fight.  If  among  all  the  curious,  useless,  unheard-of  words 
which  may  be  picked  out  of  the  spelling-book,  he  cannot  find 
one  which  the  scholars  have  not  noticed,  he  gpts  the  la«t  head 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  PROGRESS.  159 

down  by  some  quip  or  catch.  "Bay"  will  perhaps  be  the  sound ; 
one  scholar  spells  it  "  bey,"  another,  "  bay,"  while  the  master 
all  the  time  means  "  ba,"  which  comes  within  the  rule,  being  in 
the  spelling-hook. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions,  as  we  have  said,  that  Miss 
Bangle,  having  come  to  the  spelling-school  to  get  materials  for  a 
letter  to  a  female  friend,  first  shone  upon  Mr.  Homer.  She  was 
excessively  amused  by  his  solemn  air  and  puckered  mouth,  and 
set  him  down  at  once  as  fair  game.  Yet  she  could  not  help  be 
coming  somewhat  interested  in  the  spelling-school,  and  after  it 
was  over  found  she  had  not  stored  up  half  as  many  of  the  school 
master's  points  as  she  intended,  for  the  benefit  of  her  correspon 
dent. 

In  the  evening's  contest  a  young  girl  from  some  few  miles' 
distance,  Ellen  Kingsbury,  the  only  child  of  a  substantial  farmer, 
had  been  the  very  last  to  sit  down,  after  a  prolonged  effort  on 
the  part  of  Mr.  Homer  to  puzzle  her,  for  the  credit  of  his  own 
school.  She  blushed,  and  smiled,  and  blushed  again,  but  spelt  on, 
until  Mr.  Horner's  cheeks  were  crimson  with  excitement  and 
some  touch  of  shame  that  he  should  be  baffled  at  his  own  weap 
ons.  At  length,  either  by  accident  or  design,  Ellen  missed  a 
word,  and  sinking  into  her  seat,  was  numbered  with  the  slain. 

In  the  laugh  and  talk  which  followed,  (for  with  the  conclusion 
of  the  spelling,  all  form  of  a  public  assembly  vanishes,)  our 
schoolmaster  said  so  many  gallant  things  to  his  fair  enemy,  and 
appeared  so  much  animated  by  the  excitement  of  the  contest,  that 
Miss  Bangle  began  to  look  upon  him  with  rather  more  respect, 
and  to  feel  somewhat  indignant  that  a  little  rustic  like  Ellen 
should  absorb  the  entire  attention  of  the  only  beau.  She  put  on, 
therefore,  her  most  gracious  aspect,  and  mingled  in  the  circle  ; 
caused  the  schoolmaster  to  be  presented  to  her,  and  did  her  best 
to  fascinate  him  by  certain  airs  and  graces  which  she  had  found 
successful  elsewhere.  What  game  is  too  small  for  the  close- 
woven  net  of  a  coquette  ? 

Mr.  Horner  quitted  not  the  fair  Ellen  until  he  had  handed  her 
into  her  father's  sleigh  ;  and  he  then  wended  his  way  homewards, 
never  thinking  that  he  ought  to  have  escorted  Miss  Bangle  to  her 
uncle's,  though  she  certainly  waited  a  little  while  for  his  return. 


160  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

We  must  not  follow  into  particulars  the  subsequent  intercourse 
of  our  schoolmaster  with  the  civilized  young  lady.  All  that 
concerns  us  is  the  result  of  Miss  Bangle's  benevolent  designs 
upon  his  heart.  She  tried  most  sincerely  to  find  its  vulnerable 
spot,  meaning  no  doubt  to  put  Mr.  Horner  on  his  guard  for  the 
future  ;  and  she  was  unfeignedly  surprised  to  discover  that  her 
best  efforts  were  of  no  avail.  She  concluded  he  must  have 
taken  a  counter-poison,  and  she  was  not  slow  in  guessing  its 
source.  She  had  observed  the  peculiar  fire  which  lighted  up  his 
eyes  in  the  presence  of  Ellen  Kingsbury,  and  she  bethought  her 
of  a  plan  which  would  ensure  her  some  amusement  at  the  ex 
pense  of  these  impertinent  rustics,  though  in  a  manner  different 
somewhat  from  her  original  more  natural  idea  of  simple  coquetry. 

A  letter  was  written  to  Master  Horner,  purporting  to  come 
from  Ellen  Kingsbury,  worded  so  artfully  that  the  schoolmaster 
understood  at  once  that  it  was  intended  to  be  a  secret  communi 
cation,  though  its  otensible  object  was  an  inquiry  about  some 
ordinary  affair.  This  was  laid  in  Mr.  Homer's  desk  before  he 
came  to  school,  with  an  intimation  that  he  might  leave  an  an 
swer  in  a  certain  spot  on  the  following  morning.  The  bait  took 
at  once,  for  Mr.  Horner,  honest  and  true  himself,  and  much 
smitten  with  the  fair  Ellen,  was  too  happy  to  be  circumspect. 
The  answer  was  duly  placed,  and  as  duly  carried  to  Miss  Bangle 
by  her  accomplice  Joe  Englehart,  an  unlucky  pickle  who  "  was 
always  for  ill,  never  for  good,"  and  who  found  no  difficulty  in 
obtaining  the  letter  unwatched,  since  the  master  was  obliged  to 
be  in  school  at  nine,  and  Joe  could  always  linger  a  few  minutes 
later.  This  answer  being  opened  and  laughed  at,  Miss  Bangle 
had  only  to  contrive  a  rejoinder,  which  being  rather  more  par 
ticular  in  its  tone  than  the  original  communication,  led  on  yet 
again  the  happy  schoolmaster,  who  branched  out  into  sentiment, 
"  taffeta  phrases,  silken  terms  precise,"  talked  of  hills  and  dales 
and  rivulets,  and  the  pleasures  of  friendship,  and  concluded  by 
entreating  a  continuance  of  the  correspondence. 

Another  letter  and  another,  every  one  more  flattering  and  en. 
couraging  than  the  last,  almost  turned  the  sober  head  of  our  poor 
master,  and  warmed  up  his  heart  so  effectually  that  he  could 
scarcely  attend  to  his  business.  The  spelling-schools  were  re- 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  PROGRESS.  161 

numbered  however,  and  Ellen  Kingsbury  made  one  of  the  merry 
company  ;  but  the  latest  letter  had  not  forgotten  to  caution  Mr. 
Homer  not  to  betray  the  intimacy,  so  that  he  was  in  honour 
bound  to  restrict  himself  to  the  language  of  the  eyes,  hard  as  it 
was  to  forbear  the  single  whisper  for  which  he  would  have  given 
his  very  dictionary.  So  their  meeting  passed  off  without  the  ex 
planation  which  Miss  Bangle  began  to  fear  would  cut  short  her 
benevolent  amusement. 

The  correspondence  was  resumed  with  renewed  spirit,  and 
carried  on  until  Miss  Bangle,  though  not  over-burdened  with 
sensitiveness,  began  to  be  a  little  alarmed  for  the  consequences 
of  her  malicious  pleasantry.  She  perceived  that  she  herself  had 
turned  schoolmistress,  and  that  Master  Horner,  instead  of  being 
merely  her  dupe,  had  become  her  pupil  too  ;  for  the  style  of  his 
replies  had  been  constantly  improving,  and  the  earnest  and  manly 
tone  which  he  assumed  promised  any  thing  but  the  quiet,  sheepish 
pocketing  of  injury  and  insult,  upon  which  she  had  counted.  In 
truth,  there  was  something  deeper  than  vanity  in  the  feelings 
with  which  he  regarded  Ellen  Kingsbury.  The  encouragement 
which  he  supposed  himself  to  have  received,  threw  down  the 
barrier  which  his  extreme  bashfulness  would  have  interposed 
between  himself  and  any  one  who  possessed  charms  enough  to 
attract  him ;  and  we  must  excuse  him  if,  in  such  a  case,  he  did 
not  criticise  the  mode  of  encouragement,  but  rather  grasped 
eagerly  the  proffered  good  without  a  scruple,  or  one  which  he 
would  own  to  himself,  as  to  the  propriety  with  which  it  was  ten 
dered.  He  was  as  much  in  love  as  a  man  can  be,  and  the 
seriousness  of  real  attachment  gave  both  grace  and  dignity  to  his 
once  awkward  diction. 

The  evident  determination  of  Mr.  Horner  to  come  to  the  point 
of  asking  papa,  brought  Miss  Bangle  to  a  very  awkward  pass. 
She  had  expected  to  return  home  before  matters  had  proceeded 
so  far,  but  being  obliged  to  remain  some  time  longer,  she  was 
equally  afraid  to  go  on  and  to  leave  off,  a  denouement  being 
almost  certain  to  ensue  in  either  case.  Things  stood  thus  when 
it  was  time  to  prepare  for  the  grand  exhibition  which  was  to  close 
the  winter's  term. 

This  is  an  affair  of  too  much  magnitude  to  be  fully  described 

12 


162  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


in  the  small  space  yet  remaining  in  which  to  bring  out  our  vera- 
cious  history.  It  must  be  "  slubber'd  o'er  in  haste," — its  impor 
tant  preliminaries  left  to  the  cold  imagination  of  the  reader — 
its  fine  spirit  perhaps  evaporating  for  want  of  being  embodied  in 
words.  We  can  only  say  that  our  master,  whose  school-life  was 
to  close  with  the  term,  laboured  as  man  never  before  laboured  in 
such  a  cause,  resolute  to  trail  a  cloud  of  glory  after  him  when 
he  left  us.  Not  a  candlestick  nor  a  curtain  that  was  attainable, 
either  by  coaxing  or  bribery,  was  left  in  the  village  ;  even  the 
only  piano,  that  frail  treasure,  was  wiled  away  and  placed  in  one 
corner  of  the  rickety  stage.  The  most  splendid  of  all  the  pieces 

in  the  "  Columbian  Orator,"  the  "  American  Speaker,"  the 

but  we  must  not  enumerate — in  a  word,  the  most  astounding  and 
pathetic  specimens  of  eloquence  within  ken  of  either  teacher  or 
scholars,  had  been  selected  for  the  occasion  ;  and  several  young 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  whose  academical  course  had  been  happily 
concluded  at  an  earlier  period,  either  at  our  own  institution  or 
at  some  other,  had  consented  to  lend  themselves  to  the  parts  and 
their  choicest  decorations  for  the  properties,  of  the  dramatic  por 
tion  of  the  entertainment. 

Among  these  last  was  pretty  Ellen  Kingsbury,  who  had  agreed 
te  personate  the  Queen  of  Scots,  in  the  garden  scene  from 
Schiller's  tragedy  of  "  Mary  Stuart ;"  and  this  circumstance  ac 
cidentally  afforded  Master  Horner  the  opportunity  he  had  so  long 
desired,  of  seeing  his  fascinating  correspondent  without  the  pres 
ence  of  peering  eyes.  A  dress- rehearsal  occupied  the  afternoon 
before  the  day  of  days,  and  the  pathetic  expostulations  of  the 
lovely  Mary — 

Mine  all  doth  hang — my  life — my  destiny — 
Upon  my  words — upon  the  force  of  tears  ! — 

aided  by  the  long  veil,  and  the  emotion  which  sympathy  brought 
into  Ellen's  countenance,  proved  too  much  for  the  enforced  pru 
dence  of  Master  Horner.  When  the  rehearsal  was  over,  and 
the  heroes  and  heroines  were  to  return  home,  it  was  found  that, 
by  a  stroke  of  witty  invention  not  new  in  the  country,  the  harness 
of  Mr.  Kingsbury 's  horses  had  been  cut  in  several  places,  hia 
whip  hidden,  his  buffalo-skins  spread  on  the  ground,  and  the  sleigh 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  PROGRESS.  163 

turned  bottom  upwards  on  them.  This  afforded  an  excuse  for  the 
master's  borrowing  a  horse  and  sleigh  of  somebody,  and  claiming 
the  privilege  of  taking  Miss  Ellen  home,  while  her  father  returned 
with  only  Aunt  Sally  and  a  great  bag  of  bran  from  the  mill — 
companions  about  equally  interesting. 

Here,  then,  was  the  golden  opportunity  so  long  wished  for! 
Here  was  the  power  of  ascertaining  at  once  what  is  never  quite 
certain  until  we  have  heard  it  from  warm,  living  lips,  whose 
testimony  is  strengthened  by  glances  in  which  the  whole  soul 
speaks  or — seems  to  speak.  The  time  was  short,  for  the  sleigh 
ing  was  but  too  fine  ;  and  Father  Kingsbury,  having  tied  up  his 
harness,  and  collected  his  scattered  equipment,  was  driving  so 
close  behind  that  there  was  no  possibility  of  lingering  for  a  mo 
ment.  Yet  many  moments  were  lost  before  Mr.  Horner,  very 
much  in  earnest,  and  all  unhackneyed  in  matters  of  this  sort, 
could  find  a  word  in  which  to  clothe  his  new-found  feelings. 
The  horse  seemed  to  fly — the  distance  was  half  past — and  at 
length,  in  absolute  despair  of  anything  better,  he  blurted  out  at 
once  what  he  had  determined  to  avoid — a  direct  reference  to  the 
correspondence. 

A  game  at  cross- purposes  ensued  ;  exclamations  and  explana 
tions,  and  denials  and  apologies  filled  up  the  time  which  was  to 
have  made  Master  Horner  so  blest.  The  light  from  Mr.  Kings- 
bury 's  windows  shone  upon  the  path,  and  the  whole  result  of  this 
conference  so  longed  for,  was  a  burst  of  tears  from  the  perplexed 
tand  mortified  Ellen,  who  sprang  from  Mr.  Horner's  attempts  to 
detain  her,  rushed  into  the  house  without  vouchsafing  him  a  word 
of  adieu,  and  left  him  standing,  no  bad  personification  of  Orpheus, 
after  the  last  hopeless  flitting  of  his  Eurydice. 

"  Won't  you  'light,  Master  ?"  said  Mr.  Kingsbury. 

"  Yes — no — thank  you — good  evening,"  stammered  poor  Mas 
ter  Horner,  so  stupified  that  even  Aunt  Sally  called  him  "  a 
dummy." 

The  horse  took  the  sleigh  against  the  fence,  going  home,  and 
threw  out  the  master,  who  scarcely  recollected  the  accident; 
while  to  Ellen  the  issue  of  this  unfortunate  drive  was  a  sleepless 
night  and  so  high  a  fever  in  the  morning  that  our  village  doctor 
was  called  to  Mr.  Kingsbury's  before  breakfast. 


1C4  WESTERN    CI.i:  VRINCIS. 


Poor  Master  Horner's  distress  may  hardly  be  imagined.  Dis 
appointed,  bewildered,  cut  to  the  quick,  yet  as  much  in  love  as 
ever,  he  could  only  in  bitter  silence  turn  over  in  his  thoughts  the 
issue  of  his  cherished  dream  ;  now  persuading  himself  that  Ellen's 
denial  was  the  effect  of  a  sudden  bashfulness,  now  inveighing 
against  the  fickleness  of  the  sex,  as  all  men  do  when  they  are 
angry  with  any  one  woman  in  particular.  But  his  exhibition 
must  go  on  in  spite  of  wretchedness;  and  he  went  about  me 
chanically,  talking  of  curtains  and  candles,  and  music,  and  atti 
tudes,  and  pauses,  and  emphasis,  looking  like  a  somnambulist 
whose  "eyes  are  open  but  their  sense  is  shut,"  and  often  sur 
prising  those  concerned  by  the  utter  unfit  ness  of  his  answers. 

It  was  almost  evening  when  Mr.  Kingsbury,  having  discovered, 
through  the  intervention  of  the  Doctor  and  Aunt  Sally  the  cause 
of  Ellen's  distress,  made  his  appearance  before  the  unhappy  eyes 
of  Master  Horner,  angry,  solemn  and  determined  ;  taking  the 
schoolmaster  apart,  and  requiring  an  explanation  of  his  treatment 
of  his  daughter.  In  vain  did  the  perplexed  lover  ask  for  time  to 
clear  himself,  declare  his  respect  for  Miss  Ellen  and  his  willing 
ness  to  give  every  explanation  which  she  might  require :  the 
father  was  not  to  be  put  off;  and  though  excessively  reluctant, 
Mr.  Horner  had  no  resource  but  to  show  the  letters  which  alone 
could  account  for  his  strange  discourse  to  Ellen.  He  unlocked 
his  desk,  slowly  and  unwillingly,  while  the  old  man's  impatience 
was  such  that  he  could  scarcely  forbear  thrusting  in  his  own  hand 
to  snatch  at  the  papers  which  were  to  explain  this  vexatious  mys 
tery.  What  could  equal  the  utter  confusion  of  Master  Horner 
and  the  contemptuous  anger  of  the  father,  when  no  letters  were 
to  be  found  !  Mr.  Kingsbury  was  too  passionate  to  listen  to  rea 
son,  or  to  reflect  for  one  moment  upon  the  irreproachable  good 
name  of  the  schoolmaster.  He  went  away  in  inexorable  wrath  ; 
threatening  every  practicable  visitation  of  public  and  private 
justice  upon  the  head  of  the  offender,  whom  he  accused  of  having 
attempted  to  trick  his  daughter  into  an  entanglement  which  should 
result  in  his  favour. 

A  doleful  exhibition  was  this  last  one  of  our  thrice-approved 
and  most  worthy  teacher!  Stern  necessity  and  the  power  of 
habit  enabled  him  to  go  through  with  most  of  his  part,  but  where 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  PROGRESS.  165 

was  the  proud  fire  which  had  lighted  up  his  eye  on  similar 
occasions  before  ?  He  sat  as  one  of  three  judges  before  whom 
the  unfortunate  Robert  Emmet  was  dragged  in  his  shirt 
sleeves,  by  two  fierce-looking  officials  ;  but  the  chief  judge  looked 
far  more  like  a  criminal  than  did  the  proper  representative.  He 
ought  to  have  personated  Othello,  but  was  obliged  to  excuse  him- 
self  from  raving  for  "the  handkerchief!  the  handkerchief!"  on 
the  rather  anomalous  plea  of  a  bad  cold.  "  Mary  Stuart"  being 
"  i'  the  bond,"  was  anxiously  expected  by  the  impatient  crowd, 
and  it  was  with  distress  amounting  to  agony  that  the  master  was 
obliged  to  announce,  in  person,  the  necessity  of  omitting  that  part 
of  the  representation,  on  account  of  the  illness  of  one  of  the 
young  ladies. 

Scarcely  had  the  words  been  uttered,  and  the  speaker  hidden 
his  burning  face  behind  the  curtain,  when  Mr.  Kingsbury  started 
up  in  his  place  amid  the  throng,  to  give  a  public  recital  of  his 
grievance — no  uncommon  resort  in  the  new  country.  He  dashed 
at  once  to  the  point ;  and  before  some  friends  who  saw  the  utter 
impropriety  of  his  proceeding  could  persuade  him  to  defer  his 
vengeance,  he  had  laid  before  the  assembly — some  three  hundred 
people,  perhaps — his  own  statement  of  the  case.  He  was  got  out 
at  last,  half  coaxed,  half  hustled  ;  and  the  gentle  public  only  half 
understanding  what  had  been  set  forth  thus  unexpectedly,  made 
quite  a  pretty  row  of  it.  Some  clamoured  loudly  for  the  conclu 
sion  of  the  exercises ;  others  gave  utterance  in  no  particularly 
choice  terms  to  a  variety  of  opinions  as  to  the  schoolmaster's  pro 
ceedings,  varying  the  note  occasionally  by  shouting,  "  the  letters  ! 
the  letters!  why  don't  you  bring  out  the  letters  ?" 

At  length,  by  means  of  much  rapping  on  the  desk  by  the  pres 
ident  of  the  evening,  who  was  fortunately  a  "  popular"  character, 
order  was  partially  restored  ;  and  the  favourite  scene  from  Miss 
More's  dialogue  of  David  and  Goliah  was  announced  as  the  clo 
sing  piece.  The  sight  of  little  David  in  a  white  tunic  edged  with 
red  tape,  with  a  calico  scrip  and  a  very  primitive-looking  sling  ; 
and  a  huge  Goliah  decorated  with  a  militia  belt  and  sword,  and  a 
spear  like  a  weaver's  beam  indeed,  enchained  every  body's  atten 
tion.  Even  the  peccant  schoolmaster  and  his  pretended  letters 
were  forgotten,  while  the  sapient  Goliah,  every  time  that  he  rais- 


166  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

ed  the  spear,  in  the  energy  of  his  declamation,  to  thump  upon  the 
stage,  picked  away  fragments  of  the  low  ceiling,  which  fell  con 
spicuously  on  his  great  shock  of  black  hair.  At  last,  with  the 
crowning  threat,  up  went  the  spear  for  an  astounding  thump, 
and  down  came  a  large  piece  of  the  ceiling,  and  with  it — a  show- 
er  of  letters. 

The  confusion  that  ensued  beggars  all  description.  A  general 
scramble  took  place,  and  in  another  moment  twenty  pairs  of  eyes, 
at  least,  were  feasting  on  the  choice  phrases  lavished  upon  Mr. 
Homer.  Miss  Bangle  had  sat  through  the  whole  previous  scene, 
trembling  for  herself,  although  she  had,  as  she  supposed,  guarded 
cunningly  against  exposure.  She  had  needed  no  prophet  to  tell 
her  what  must  be  the  result  of  a  tete-a-tete  between  Mr.  Horner 
and  Ellen  ;  and  the  moment  she  saw  them  drive  off  together,  she 
induced  her  imp  to  seize  the  opportunity  of  abstracting  the  whole 
parcel  of  letters  from  Mr.  Homer's  desk  ;  which  he  did  by  means 
of  a  sort  of  skill  which  comes  by  nature  to  such  goblins;  pick 
ing  the  lock  by  the  aid  of  a  crooked  nail,  as  neatly  as  if  he  had 
been  born  within  the  shadow  of  the  Tombs. 

But  magicians  sometimes  suffer  severely  from  the  malice  with 
which  they  have  themselves  inspired  their  familiars.  Joe  Engle- 
hart  having  been  a  convenient  tool  thus  far,  thought  it  quite  time 
to  torment  Miss  Bangle  a  little ;  so,  having  stolen  the  letters  at 
her  bidding,  he  hid  them  on  his  own  account,  and  no  persuasions 
of  hers  could  induce  him  to  reveal  this  important  secret,  which 
he  chose  to  reserve  as  a  rod  in  case  she  refused  him  some  inter 
cession  with  his  father,  or  some  other  accommodation,  rendered 
necessary  by  his  mischievous  habits. 

He  had  concealed  the  precious  parcel  in  the  unfioored  loft 
above  the  school- room,  a  place  accessible  only  by  means  of  a 
small  trap-door  without  staircase  or  ladder;  and  here  he  meant 
to  have  kept  them  while  it  suited  his  purposes,  but  for  the  untime 
ly  intrusion  of  the  weaver's  beam. 

Miss  Bangle  had  sat  through  all,  as  we  have  said,  thinking  the 
letters  safe,  yet  vowing  vengeance  against  her  confederate  for  not 
allowing  her  to  secure  them  by  a  satisfactory  conflagration ;  and 
it  was  not  until  she  heard  her  own  name  whispered  through  the 
crowd,  that  she  was  awakened  to  her  true  situation.  The  sagacity 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER'S  PROGRESS.  1G7 

of  the  low  creatures  whom  she  had  despised  showed  them  at  once 
that  the  letters  must  be  hers,  since  her  character  had  been  pretty 
shrewdly  guessed,  and  the  handwriting  wore  a  more  practised 
air  than  is  usual  among  females  in  the  country.  This  was  first 
taken  for  granted,  and  then  spoken  of  as  an  acknowledged  fact. 

The  assembly  moved  like  the  heavings  of  a  troubled  sea. 
Every  body  felt  that  this  was  every  body's  business.  "  Put  her 
out !"  was  heard  from  more  than  one  rough  voice  near  the  door, 
and  this  was  responded  to  by  loud  and  angry  murmurs  from 
within. 

Mr.  Englehart,  not  waiting  to  inquire  into  the  merits  of  the 
case  in  this  scene  of  confusion,  hastened  to  get  his  family  out  as 
quietly  and  as  quickly  as  possible,  but  groans  and  hisses  followed 
his  niece  as  she  hung  half-fainting  on  his  arm,  quailing  complete 
ly  beneath  the  instinctive  indignation  of  the  rustic  public.  As 
she  passed  out,  a  yell  resounded  among  the  rude  boys  about  the 
door,  and  she  was  lifted  into  a  sleigh,  insensible  from  terror.  She 
disappeared  from  that  evening,  and  no  one  knew  the  time  of  her 
final  departure  for  "  the  east." 

Mr.  Kingsbury,  who  is  a  just  man  when  he  is  not  in  a  pas 
sion,  made  all  the  reparation  in  his  power  for  his  harsh  and  ill- 
considered  attack  upon  the  master ;  and  we  believe  that  function 
ary  did  not  show  any  traits  of  implacability  of  character.  At 
least  he  was  seen,  not  many  days  after,  sitting  peaceably  at  tea 
with  Mr.  Kingsbury,  Aunt  Sally,  and  Miss  Ellen;  and  he  has 
since  gone  home  to  build  a  house  upon  his  farm.  And  people  do 
say,  that  after  a  few  months  more,  Ellen  will  not  need  Miss  Ban 
gle's  intervention  if  she  should  see  fit  to  correspond  with  the  um- 
quhile  schoolmaster. 


168  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OPERATIVE    DEMOCRACY. 

"  A  theme  of  perilous  risk 
Thou  handiest,  and  hot  fires  beneath  thy  path 
The  treacherous  ashes  nurse." 

"  CAN'T  you  let  our  folks  have  some  eggs  ?"  said  Daniel  Web 
ster  Larkins,  opening  the  door,  and  putting  in  a  litttle  straw-col 
oured  head  and  a  pair  of  very  mild  blue  eyes  just  far  enough  to  re- 
connoitre  ;  "  can't  you  let  our  folks  have  some  eggs  ?  Our  old 
hen  don't  lay  nothing  but  chickens  now,  and  mother  can't  eat 
pork,  and  she  a'n't  had  no  breakfast,  and  the  baby  a'n't  drest, 
nor  nothin'  !" 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Webster  ?     Where's  your  girl  ?" 

"  Oh  !  we  ha'n't  no  girl  but  father,  and  he's  had  to  go  'way  to 
day  to  a  raisin' — and  mother  wants  to  know  if  you  can't  tell  her 
where  to  get  a  girl  ?" 

Poor  Mrs.  Larkins  !  Her  husband  makes  but  an  indifferent 
"  girl,"  being  a  remarkable  public-spirited  person.  The  good 
lady  is  in  very  delicate  health,  and  having  an  incredible  number 
of  little  blue  eyes  constantly  making  fresh  demands  upon  her 
time  and  strength,  she  usually  keeps  a  girl  when  she  can  get  one. 
When  she  cannot,  which  is  unfortunately  the  larger  part  of  the 
time,  her  husband  dresses  the  children — mixes  stir-cakes  for  the 
eldest  blue  eyes  to  bake  on  a  griddle,  which  is  never  at  rest- 
milks  the  cow — feeds  the  pigs — and  then  goes  to  his  "business," 
which  we  have  supposed  to  consist  principally  in  helping  at  rais 
ings,  wood-bees,  huskings,  and  such  like  important  affairs ;  and 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  169 

"  girl"  hunting — the  most  important  and  arduous,  and  profitless 
of  all. 

Yet  it  must  be  owned  that  Mr.  Larkins  is  a  tolerable  carpenter, 
and  that  he  buys  as  many  comforts  for  his  family  as  most  of  his 
neighbours.  The  main  difficulty  seems  to  be  that  "  help"  is  not 
often  purchasable.  The  very  small  portion  of  our  damsels  who 
will  consent  to  enter  anybody's  doors  for  pay,  makes  the  chase 
after  them  quite  interesting  from  its  uncertainty  ;  and  the  damsels 
themselves,  subject  to  a  well  known  foible  of  their  sex,  become 
very  coy  from  being  over-courted.  Such  racing  and  chasing, 
and  begging  and  praying,  to  get  a  girl  for  a  month  !  They  are 
often  got  for  life  with  half  the  trouble.  But  to  return. 

Having  an  esteem  for  Mrs.  Larkins,  and  a  sincere  experimental 
pity  for  the  forlorn  condition  of  "  no  girl  but  father,"  I  set  out  at 
once  to  try  if  female  tact  and  perseverance  might  not  prove  effec 
tual  in  ferreting  out  a  "  help,"  though  mere  industry  had  not  suc 
ceeded.  For  this  purpose  I  made  a  list  in  my  mind  of  those 
neighbours,  in  the  first  place,  whose  daughters  sometimes  conde 
scended  to  be  girls  ;  and,  secondly,  of  the  few  who  were  enabled 
by  good  luck,  good  management,  and  good  pay,  to  keep  them.  If 
I  failed  in  my  attempts  upon  one  class,  I  hoped  for  somenew  lights 
from  the  other.  When  the  object  is  of  such  importance,  it  is 
well  to  string  one's  bow  double. 

In  the  first  category  stood  Mrs.  Lowndes,  whose  forlorn  log- 
house  had  never  known  door  or  window  ;  a  blanket  supplying  the 
place  of  the  one,  and  the  other  being  represented  by  a  crevice 
between  the  logs.  Lifting  the  sooty  curtain  with  some  timidity,  I 
found  the  dame  with  a  sort  of  reel  before  her,  trying  to  wind 
some  dirty,  tangled  yarn  ;  and  ever  and  anon  kicking  at  a  basket 
which  hung  suspended  from  the  beam  overhead  by  means  of  a 
strip  of  hickory  bark.  This  basket  contained  a  nest  of  rags  and 
an  indescribable  baby  ;  and  in  the  ashes  on  the  rough  hearth 
played  several  dingy  objects,  which  I  suppose  had  once  been  ba 
bies. 

"  Is  your  daughter  at  home  now,  Mrs.  Lowndes  ?" 

"  Well,  yes  !  M'randy's  to  hum,  but  she's  out  now.  Did  you 
want  her  ?" 


170  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

"  I  came  to  see  if  she  could  go  to  Mrs.  Larkins,  who  is  very 
unwell,  and  sadly  in  want  of  help." 

"  Miss  Larkins  !  why,  do  tell  !  I  want  to  know  !  Is  she  sick 
agin  ?  and  is  her  gal  gone  ?  Why  !  I  want  to  know  !  I  thought 
she  had  Lo-i-sy  Paddon  !  Is  Lo-i-sy  gone  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so.  You  will  let  Miranda  go  to  Mrs.  Larkins,  will 
you  ?" 

"  Well,  I  donnow  but  I  would  let  her  go  for  a  spell,  just  to 
'commodate  'em.  M'randy  may  go  if  she's  a  mind  ter.  She 
needn't  live  out  unless  she  chooses.  She's  got  a  comfortable 
home,  and  no  thanks  to  nobody.  What  wages  do  they  give  ?" 

"  A  dollar  a  week." 

"  Eat  at  the  table  ?" 

"  Oh  !  certainly." 

"Have  Sundays?" 

"  Why  no — I  believe  not  the  whole  of  Sunday — the  children, 
you  know — 

"  Oh  ho  !"  interrupted  Mrs.  Lowndes,  with  a  most  disdainful 
toss  of  the  head,  giving  at  the  same  time  a  vigorous  impulse  to 
the  cradle,  "  if  that's  how  it  is,  M'randy  don't  stir  a  step  !  She 
don't  live  nowhere  if  she  can't  come  home  Saturday  night  and 
stay  till  Monday  morning." 

I  took  my  leave  without  farther  parley,  having  often  found  this 
point  the  sine  qua  non  in  such  negotiations. 

My  next  effort  was  at  a  pretty-looking  cottage,  whose  over 
hanging  roof  and  neat  outer  arrangements,  spoke  of  English 
ownership.  The  interior  by  no  means  corresponded  with  the 
exterior  aspect,  being  even  more  bare  than  usual,  and  far  from 
neat.  The  presiding  power  was  a  prodigious  creature,  who  look 
ed  like  a  man  in  woman's  clothes,  and  whose  blazing  face,  orna 
mented  here  and  there  by  great  hair  moles,  spoke  very  intelligi 
bly  of  the  beer-barrel,  if  of  nothing  more  exciting.  A  daughter 
of  this  virago  had  once  lived  in  my  family,  and  the  mother  met 
me  with  an  air  of  defiance,  as  if  she  thought  I  had  come  with  an 
accusation.  When  I  unfolded  my  errand,  her  abord  softened  a 
little,  but  she  scornfully  rejected  the  idea  of  her  Lucy  living  with 
any  more  Yankees. 

"  You  pretend  to  think  everybody  alike,"  said  she,  "  but  when 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  171 

it  comes  to  the  pint,  you're  a  sight  more  uppish  and  saucy  than 
the  ra'al  quality  at  home ;  and  I'll  see  the  whole  Yankee  race 
to " 

I  made  my  exit  without  waiting  for  the  conclusion  of  this  com 
plimentary  observation  ;  and  the  less  reluctantly  for  having  observ 
ed  on  the  table  the  lower  part  of  one  of  my  silver  teaspoons,  the 
top  of  which  had  been  violently  wrenched  off.  This  spoon  was 
a  well-remernbered  loss  during  Lucy's  administration,  and  I  knew 
that  Mrs.  Larkins  had  none  to  spare. 

Unsuccessful  thus  far  among  the  arbiters  of  our  destiny,  I 
thought  I  would  stop  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  and  make  some  in 
quiries  which  might  spare  me  farther  rebuffs.  On  making  my 
way  by  the  garden  gate  to  the  little  library  where  I  usually 
saw  Mrs.  Stayner,  I  was  surprised  to  find  it  silent  and  uninhabit 
ed.  The  windows  were  closed;  a  half-finished  cap  lay  on  the 
sofa,  and  a  bunch  of  yesterday's  wild-flowers  upon  the  table.  All 
spoke  of  desolation.  The  cradle — not  exactly  an  appropriate  ad 
junct  of  a  library  scene  elsewhere,  but  quite  so  at  the  West — 
was  gone,  and  the  little  rocking-chair  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  I 
went  on  through  parlour  and  hall,  finding  no  sign  of  life,  save  the 
breakfast-table  still  standing  with  crumbs  undisturbed.  Where 
bells  are  not  known,  ceremony  is  out  of  the  question ;  so  I  pene 
trated  even  to  the  kitchen,  where  at  length  I  caught  sight  of  the 
fair  face  of  my  friend.  She  was  bending  over  the  bread-tray, 
and  at  the  same  time  telling  nursery-stories  as  fast  as  possible,  by 
way  of  coaxing  her  little  boy  of  four  years  old  to  rock  the  cradle 
which  contained  his  baby  sister. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?" 

"  Oh  !  nothing  more  than  usual.  My  Polly  took  herself  off 
yesterday  without  a  moment's  warning,  saying  she  thought  she  had 
lived  out  about  long  enough ;  and  poor  Tom,  our  factotum,  has 
the  ague.  Mr.  Stayner  has  gone  to  some  place  sixteen  miles  off, 
where  he  was  told  he  might  hear  of  a  girl,  and  I  am  sole  repre 
sentative  of  the  family  energies.  But  you've  no  idea  what  capi 
tal  bread  I  can  make." 

This  looked  rather  discouraging  for  my  quest ;  but  knowing 
that  the  main  point  of  table-companionship  was  the  source  of 
most  of  Mrs.  Stayner's  difficulties,  I  still  hoped  for  Mrs.  Larkins, 


172  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

who  loved  the  closest  intimacy  with  her  "  help,'7  and  always  took 
them  visiting  with  her.  So  I  passed  on  for  another  effort  at  Mrs. 
Randall's,  whose  three  daughters  had  sometimes  been  known  to 
lay  aside  their  dignity  long  enough  to  obtain  some  much-coveted 
article  of  dress.  Here  the  mop  was  in  full  play ;  and  Mrs.  Ran 
dall,  with  her  gown  turned  up,  was  splashing  diluted  mud  on  the 
walls  and  furniture,  in  the  received  mode  of  these  regions,  where 
"  stained-glass  windows"  are  made  without  a  patent.  I  did  not 
venture  in,  but  asked  from  the  door,  with  my  best  diplomacy, 
whether  Mrs.  Randall  knew  of  a  girl. 

"  A  gal !  no  ;  who  wants  a  gal  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Larkins." 

"  She  !  why  don't  she  get  up  and  do  her  own  work  V 

"  She  is  too  feeble." 

"  Law  sakes  !  too  feeble  !  she'd  be  able  as  anybody  to  thrash 
round,  if  her  old  man  didn't  spile  her  by  waitin'  on " 

We  think  Mrs.  Larkins  deserves  small  blame  on  this  score. 

"  But,  Mrs.  Randall,  the  poor  woman  is  really  ill  and  unable 
to  do  anything  for  her  children.  Couldn't  you  spare  Rachel  for 
a  few  days  to  help  her  ?" 

This  was  said  in  a  most  guarded  and  deprecatory  tone,  and 
with  a  manner  carefully  moulded  between  indifference  and  undue 
solicitude. 

"  My  gals  nas  got  enough  to  do.  They  a'n't  able  to  do  their 
own  work.  Cur'line  hasn't  been  worth  the  fust  red  cent  for  hard 
work  ever  since  she  went  to  school  to  A ." 

"  Oh  !  I  did  not  expect  to  get  Caroline.  I  understand  she  is 
going  to  get  married." 

"  What !  to  Bill  Green  !  She  wouldn't  let  him  walk  where 
she  walked  last  year  !" 

Here  I  saw  I  had  made  a  misstep.  Resolving  to  be  more  cau 
tious,  I  left  the  selection  to  the  lady  herself,  and  only  begged  for 
one  of  the  girls.  But  my  eloquence  was  wasted.  The  Miss 
Randalls  had  been  a  whole  quarter  at  a  select  school,  and  will 
not  live  out  again  until  their  present  stock  of  finery  is  unweara- 
ble.  Miss  Rachel,  whose  company  I  had  hoped  to  secure,  was 
even  then  paying  attention  to  a  branch  of  the  fine  arts. 

"  Rachel  Amandy  !"  cried  Mrs.  Randall  at  the  foot  of  the  lad- 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  173 

der  which  gave  access  to  the  upper  regions — "  fetch  that  thing 
down  here  !  It's  the  prettiest  thing  you  ever  see  in  your  life  !" 
turning  to  me.  And  the  educated  young  lady  brought  down  a 
doleful-looking  compound  of  card-board  and  many-coloured  wa 
ters,  which  had,  it  seems,  occupied  her  mind  and  fingers  for  some 
days. 

"  There  !"  said  the  mother,  proudly,  "  a  gal  that's  learnt  to 
make  sich  baskets  as  that,  a'n't  a  goin5  to  be  nobody's  help,  I 
guess  !" 

I  thought  the  boast  likely  to  be  verified  as  a  prediction,  and 
went  my  way,  crestfallen  and  weary.  Girl-hunting  is  certainly 
among  our  most  formidable  "  chores." 


174  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

INTRODUCTIONS    AND    REMINISCENCES 

"  Ah  !  what  avails  the  largest  gifts  of  heaven 
When  drooping  health  and  spirits  go  amiss  ? 

How  tasteless  then  whatever  may  be  given  ! 
Health  is  the  vital  principle  of  bliss, 

And  exercise  of  health." 

THUS  unsuccessful,  it  was  for  rest  more  than  for  inquiry  that 
I  turned  my  steps  toward  Mrs.  Clifford's  modest  dwelling — a 
house  containing  only  just  rooms  enough  for  decent  comfort,  yet 
inhabited  by  gentle  breeding,  and  feelings  which  meet  but  little 
sympathy  in  these  rough  walks.  Mrs.  Clifford  was  a  widow, 
bowed  down  by  misfortune,  and  gradually  sinking  into  a  sort  of 
desperate  apathy,  if  we  may  be  allowed  such  a  term — a  condi- 
lion  to  which  successive  disappointments  and  the  gradual  fading 
away  of  long-cherished  hopes,  will  sometimes  reduce  proud 
yet  honourable  minds.  The  apathy  is  on  the  surface,  but  the 
smouldering  fires  of  despair  burst  forth  at  intervals,  in  spite  of 
their  icy  covering.  Exertion  had  long  since  been  abandoned  by 
this  unfortunate  lady,  and  she  sat  always  in  her  great  arm-chair, 
seeming  scarce  alive  to  common  things,  yet  starting  in  agonized 
sensitiveness  when  the  tender  string  of  her  altered  fortunes  was 
touched  by  a  rude  hand.  This  total  renunciation  of  effort  had 
done  its  work  upon  her  mind  and  body.  Mrs.  Clifford  had  be 
come  a  mere  mountain  in  size,  while  her  pale  face  and  leaden 
eye  told  of  anything  hut  health  and  enjoyment.  She  read  inces 
santly,  seeking  that  "oblivious  antidote  "  in  books, which  coarser 
natures  are  apt  to  seek  in  less  refined  indulgences.  She  lived  in 
a  world  of  imagination  until  she  had  insensibly  become  unfit  for 
a  world  of  reality.  Who  can  find  anything  charming  in  common 
life,  after  a  full  surrender  of  the  mind  to  the  excitements  of  fic 
tion  ?  Who  ever  relished  common  air  after  a  long  draught  of 
exhilarating  gas? 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  175 

To  the  looker-on,  this  poor  lady,  broken  down  and  dispirited 
as  she  was,  seemed  to  have  much  left  for  which  to  be  grateful. 
Her  two  daughters  and  their  manly  brother  were  patterns  of  duty 
and  devoted  affection.  Through  the  whole  sad  period  of  the 
downfall  of  their  fortunes,  and  the  gradual  withdrawal,  from 
various  causes,  of  almost  the  very  means  of  existence,  Augustus 
Clifford  shrank  from  nothing  which  promised  advantage  to  his 
mother's  condition.  While  she  had  yet  an  income,  he  was  her 
very  efficient  and  accurate  man  of  business ;  and  when  the  "  mis 
fortunes"  of  banks,  and  the  assiduity  of  "  defaulters"  had  made 
this  office  a  sinecure,  he  turned  his  hand  to  the  plough,  and  was 
the  "  patient  log-man"  of  a  poverty-stricken  household.  He  had 
seen  with  unavailing  distress  the  sad  decay  of  his  mother's  ener 
gies,  and  done  all  that  a  son  may,  to  avert  the  ill  consequences 
of  her  indolent  habits ;  but  finding  matters  only  growing  worse, 
he  had  left  home  at  the  urgent  entreaty  of  his  sisters,  a  few 
weeks  before  the  time  when  our  story  commences,  to  seek  em 
ployment  in  the  city,  where  abilities  like  his  are  so  much  more  in 
request  than  in  the  woods. 

Of  the  two  daughters,  Rose,  the  elder,  was  in  feeble  health, 
and,  though  gentle  and  unassuming,  and  much  beloved  at  home, 
not  particularly  attractive  elsewhere.  She  was  said  to  have 
been  crossed  in  love,  and  her  subdued  and  rather  melancholy 
manner  seemed  to  confirm  the  report.  But  Anna  Clifford  had 
beauty  and  grace  of  a  rare  order,  though  in  a  style  not  always 
appreciated  by  those  who  admire  that  fragility  of  form  which  is  so 
coveted  by  our  own  fair  countrywomen.  She  was  taller  than 
most  women,  but  so  beautifully  proportioned  that  this  would  not 
occur  to  you  until  you  saw  her  measured  with  others.  Magnifi 
cent  is  the  epithet  for  her  beauty ;  and  much  intercourse  with 
polished  society  had  given  a  free  and  finished  elegance  to  her 
manners,  while  it  had  detracted  nothing  from  the  truth  and  simpli 
city  of  her  character.  Born  to  fortune,  and  having  the  further 
advantages  of  connections  high  in  place,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
she  should  have  found  many  admirers.  Indeed  we  have  the  sat 
isfaction  of  knowing  that  our  forest  judgment  of  her  charms  had 
been  borne  out  by  the  homage  rendered  to  our  fair  neighbour  by 
various  young  men  of  acknowledged  taste  who  had  bowed  at  her 


176  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


shrine  in  happier  days.  But  it  may  not  be  so  easy  to  believe 
that  her  heart  was  still  her  own.  Perhaps  the  careless  gayety  of 
her  spirits  had  proved  her  shield,  since  all  passion  is  said  to  be 
serious.  However  this  may  be,  she  declared  she  would  not 
marry  till  thirty,  adding,  with  the  deep  determination  of  twenty- 
one,  and  also  with  the  tone  which  befits  the  inheritrix  of  certain 
prejudices,  that  then  the  happy  man  should  be  neither  a  Yankee, 
a  Presbyterian,  nor  a  widower. 

We  have  omitted  to  mention  'that  these  our  friends  were  from 
England — one  forgets  that  friends  are  foreigners.  Mrs.  Clifford, 
whose  income  at  home  had  diminished  from  various  causes,  was 
attracted  to  this  country  by  the  far  higher  interest  to  be  obtained 
on  money ;  and  during  some  years  that  she  resided  in  one  of  the 
great  cities,  her  expectations  of  increased  income  were  more  than 
realized,  and  she  and  her  family  had  enjoyed  all  that  the  best 
American  circles  afforded  to  the  wealthy  and  the  accomplished  of 
whatever  land.  When  the  dark  days  came,  and  Mrs.  Clifford 
found  herself  left  with  scarcely  a  pittance,  the  "  West" — then  an 
El  Dorado — offered  many  attractions  to  the  sanguine  mind  of 
Augustus,  and  he  persuaded  his  mother  to  withdraw,  while  yet 
she  might  be  able  to  purchase  a  little  land  where  land  is  almost 
given  away.  What  had  been  the  result  of  this  enterprise,  we 
have  already  seen.  Mrs.  Clifford  was  too  old  to  bear  transplant 
ing.  A  high  aristocratic  pride  was  the  very  soul  of  her  being. 
In  the  present  condition  of  her  circumstances,  she  felt  not  only 
inconvenience — that  was  unavoidable  under  a  complete  revulsion 
of  habits — but  degradation  ;  an  idea  which  common  sense  and 
self-respect  should  have  scouted.  And  the  very  thing  that  should 
have  made  present  sacrifices  easy,  served  but  to  embitter  them. 
The  Cliffords  had  expectations  from  England,  on  the  demise  of 
some  long-lifed  uncle  or  aunt ;  a  fortune,  of  course,  since  an 
English  legacy  always  passes  for  a  fortune,  an  involuntary  com 
pliment,  I  suppose,  to  the  well-known  wealth  of  our  magnificent 
mother.  However,  the  Cliffords  said  "  expectations,"  which  we 
will  leave  to  be  limited,  or  unlimited,  by  the  imagination  of  the 
reader. 

This  much  by  way  of  introduction — an  indispensable  ceremo 
ny,  always  attended  with  some  awkwardness.     Our  present  one 


HALF- LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  17" 

has  been  circumstantial  and  minute,  after  the  fashion  of  the  coun 
try,  e.g.: 

"  Miss  Wiggins,  let  me  make  you  acquainted  with  an  uncle  of 
HIS'N,  just  come  down  from  Ionia  county,  the  town  of  Freeman- 
tie,  village  of  Breadalbane — come  away  up  here  to  mill,  (they 
ha'n't  no  mills  yet,  up  there.)  Uncle,  this  is  Miss  Wiggins, 
John  Wiggins's  wife,  up  yonder  on  the  hill,  t'other  side  o'  the 
mash — you  can  see  the  house  from  here.  She's  come  down  to 
meetin'." 


178  WESTERN   CLEARINGS 


CHAPTER  III. 


In  brave  poursuitt  of  honourable  deede, 
There  is  I  know  not  what  great  difference 
Between  the  vulgar  and  the  noble  seede — 
Which  unto  things  of  valorous  pretence, 
Seem  to  be  borne  by  native  influence. 

THIS  same  introduction  has  unavoidably  called  for  so  many 
words,  that  we  must  hasten  over  some  minor  points  in  the  char 
acter  and  situation  of  our  young  friends.  It  would  require  a 
long  story  to  express  fully  the  difficulties  under  which  these 
sweet  girls  laboured,  in  trying  to  soften  for  their  mother  a  lot 
which  they  could  cheerfully  have  endured  themselves.  Mrs. 
Clifford's  habits  were  imperative,  her  prejudices  immoveable. 
All  that  had  yet  occurred  had  failed  to  make  her  perceive  that  it 
was  necessary  to  do  without  everything  but  the  bare  requisites 
of  subsistence  ;  and  to  keep  this  sad  necessity  from  her  eyes  had 
been  the  constant  study  of  her  children.  She  had,  indeed,  no 
idea  of  their  efforts  and  sacrifices,  or  of  the  real  condition  of  the 
household. 

"  Where  is  the  silver  chocolate-pot,  Anna  ?"  Mrs.  Clifford  in 
quired  one  morning  at  breakfast. 

"  You,  know,  mamma,  the  handle  was  loose,  and  I  took  it  to 
the  village." 

"  But  what  a  length  of  time  it  has  been  gone  !  Pray  inquire 
for  it !  I  do  so  hate  this  earthen  thing  !" 

The  poor  lady  would  have  been  without  chocolate,  and  without 
tea  also,  if  the  chocolaliere  had  not  been  transferred,  at  least  pro. 
tern,  to  the  possession  of  our  village  dealer-in-all-things.  But 
the  idea  of  such  a  transaction  would  almost  have  crazed  her  ; 
and  she  had  so  far  lost  the  train  of  cause  and  effect,  that  she 
thought  the  last  bank-note  brought  in  by  Augustus  had  sufficed 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  179 

for  six  weeks'  family  expenses.  The  girls  never  gathered  cou 
rage  to  enlighten  their  mother's  views  as  to  pecuniary  matters, 
though  they  were  sometimes  obliged  to  run  away  to  hide  their 
tears  when  she  would  remark  the  meanness  of  their  dress,  and 
fear  they  were  contracting  habits  which  would  unfit  them  to  enjoy 
better  fortune.  Anna  Clifford  and  her  sister,  forced  by  suffering 
to  learn  a  premature  prudence,  often  wished,  in  the  grief  of  their 
hearts,  that  no  prospect  of  an  inheritance  had  prevented  their 
mother  from  accommodating  her  ideas  to  her  present  condition. 
This  "  waiting  for  dead  men's  shoes"  is  proverbially  enervating 
to  the  character. 

When  I  entered  the  little  parlour,  I  was  somewhat  startled  by 
the  sight  of  two  rough-looking  men,  one  fanning  himself  with  his 
hat,  the  other  drumming  on  the  table  with  his  long,  black,  horny 
nails,  arid  both  taking  a  deliberate  survey  of  the  apartment  and 
all  that  it  contained.  In  the  accustomed  chair  sat  Mrs.  Clifford, 
a  purple  spot  on  each  cheek,  and  a  look  of  helpless  anger  in  her 
eye,  while  her  daughters,  one  on  either  side  of  her,  stood,  pale  as 
death,  gazing  on  these  strange  guests. 

"  Well !  I  guess  we  may  as  well  levy,  if  you've  nobody  to  stay 
judgment,"  said  the  straw  hat,  who  seemed  to  be  principal. 
"  Mr.  Grinder  told  us  the  money  or  the  things.  That's  the  hang 
of  it.  No  mistake.  Turn  out  what  you  like,  or  we'll  take  what 
we  like.  No  two  ways  about  it !  You  ha'n't  hid  nothing,  have 
ye  ?  If  you  have,  you'd  better  rowst  it  out  at  once't !  We've  a 
right  to  sarch." 

Mrs.  Clifford  gasped  for  breath. 

"  Who  sent  you  here  ?"  she  said. 

"  Oh !  we're  for  Grinder.  That  bill,  you  know.  Your  son 
there  confessed  judgment.  I  s'pose  he  thought  levyin'  time  would 
never  come.  We  want  a  hundred  dollars,  or  goods  to  that  amount. 
You've  got  a  good  deal  more  than  the  law  allows — now  what'll 
you  turn  out  ?  Come,  be  lively,  gals,  for  we  can't  wait !" 

This  was  said  quite  facetiously. 

"  Couldn't  you  grant  a  little  time,  till  we  can  hear  from  my 
brother  ?"  said  Anna,  who  seemed  more  self-possessed  than  her 
mother  or  Rose. 


180  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

"  Can't  go  it !  No  fun  in  waitin'.  Hearin'  from  him  won't  do 
no  good,  unless  he  sends  money.  Do  you  expect  money  ?" 

"  Yes — that  is — we  hope — " 

"  Ha !  ha !  hope  starved  a  rattlesnake  !  We  can't  eat  nor 
drink  hope.  Come,  Woodruff,  they  a'n't  a  goin'  to  turn  out  any 
tiling  but  talk.  Go  ahead  !" 

Our  poor  friends  were  overwhelmed,  but  seeing  no  present 
remedy,  they  could  only  sit  quietly  looking  on  while  the  officers 
proceeded  to  execute  this  trying  process  of  law.  I  must  do  Mr. 
Beals  and  his  assistant  the  justice  to  say  that,  allowing  for  their 
rude  natures,  they  were  not  wilfully  insulting,  but  performed 
their  duty  with  as  few  words  as  possible.  Indeed,  nothing  can 
be  more  foreign  to  the  character  of  the  men  of  this  country  than 
any  thing  like  intentional  rudeness  to  a  woman.  We  must  not 
blame  them  for  not  respecting  feelings  which  they  could  not  un 
derstand. 

When  they  had  departed,  Mrs.  Clifford's  pride  came  to  the 
rescue.  In  reply  to  the  words  of  sympathy  which  one  cannot 
help  offering  in  such  cases,  she  said  it  was  a  thing  of  no  import 
ance  at  all.  "  My  son  will  come  or  send  before  these  people 
actually  proceed  to  sell  our  property !  It  can  never  be  that  the 
very  furniture  of  my  house  is  to  be  taken  away  by  a  low  person 
like  Grinder!  I  cannot  imagine  why  Augustus  does  not  write! 
I  expected  he  would  have  sent  us  funds  long  ago !" 

It  would  have  been  unavailing  to  convince  the  poor  lady  that 
her  son  might  not  probably  find  it  very  easy  to  pick  up  money, 
even  in  the  city,  in  these  times ;  so  we  turned  the  discourse  grad 
ually  to  other  things.  I  stated  the  purpose  of  my  long  walk  and 
its  ill  success  ;  and  after  some  attempts  at  conversation — laboured 
enough  when  all  hearts  were  full  of  one  subject,  and  that,  one 
that  did  not  bear  handling — I  invited  Mrs.  Clifford  with  her  daugh 
ters  to  remove  to  our  house  until  Augustus  should  return. 

The  old  lady's  manner  was  stately  enough  for  Queen  Eliza 
beth.  She  thanked  me  very  graciously,  but  felt  quite  too  sad,  as 
well  as  too  infirm,  she  said,  to  think  of  quitting  home.  And  with 
this  reply  I  was  about  to  take  my  leave,  when  Anna,  suddenly 
turning  to  her  mother,  declared  she  should  like  very  much  to  ac 
cept  the  invitation. 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  181 

It  was  as  easy  to  read  high  displeasure  in  the  countenance  of 
the  mother  as  most  painful  surprise  in  that  of  the  gentle  Rose. 
But  Anna,  though  her  cheek  was  flushed  and  her  lip  quivering 
with  emotion,  persisted  in  her  wish. 

"  You  will  return  with  me  now  ?" 

"  Not  just  now,  but  this  evening." 

And  I  promised  to  send. 

******* 

"  What  must  you  have  thought  of  me  ?"  said  the  dear  girl  as  I 
welcomed  her.  "  But  you  could  not  suppose  for  a  moment  that 
I  really  coveted  a  visit  when  my  poor  mother's  heart  was  so  cru 
elly  wrung !  Ah  no  !  it  was  a  lucky  thought  that  struck  me 
when  you  said  Mrs.  Larkins  wanted  a  servant.  It  flashed  upon 
me  that  in  that  way  I  might  earn  a  pittance,  however  small,  on 
which  mamma  and  Rose  can  subsist  until  we  hear  from  Augustus. 
You  see  what  these  horrid  debts  come  to,  and  we  are  absolutely 
without  present  resources.  Ah  !  I  see  what  you  are  going  to 
say;  but  do  not  even  speak  of  it !  Mamma  would  rather  die,  I 
believe  !  Only  get  me  in  at  Mrs.  Larkins5,  and  you  shall  see 
what  a  famous  maid  I'll  make  !  I  have  learned  so  much  since 
we  came  here  !  And  I  have  arranged  it  all  with  Rose,  that  mam 
ma  shall  never  discover  it.  Mamma  is  a  little  deaf,  you  know, 
and  does  not  hear  casual  observations,  and  Ro-e  will  take  care 
that  nobody  tells  her.  Poor  Rose  cried  a  good  deal  at  first,  but 
she  saw  it  was  the  best  thing  I  could  do  for  mamma,  so  she  con 
sented.  She  can  easily  do  all  that  is  needed  at  home,  while  my 
strong  arms" — and  here  she  extended  a  pair  that  Cleopatra  might 
have  envied,  so  round,  so  graceful,  so  perfect — "  my  strong  arms 
can  earn  all  the  little  comforts,  that  are  every  thing  to  poor  mam 
ma  !  Won't  it  be  delightful !  Oh,  I  shall  be  so  happy  !  There 
is  only  one  sad  side.  My  mother  will  think — till  Augustus  re 
turns — that  I  have  selfishly  flown  from  her  trials."  And  at  the 
thought  she  burst  into  tears,  for  the  remembrance  of  her  mother's 
displeasure  weighed  sorely  upon  her. 

I  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  record  the  various  interrup 
tions  which  I  could  not  help  making  to  this  plan.  Anna's  warmth 
overpowered  all  I  could  say,  and  she  succeeded  in  convincing  my 
reason  at  least,  if  not  my  feelings,  that  it  was  the  best  thing  for 


182  WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 


the  present.  Her  eyes  did  not  allow  of  close  application  to  the 
needle,  and  the  uncertainty  of  that  most  laborious  of  all  ways  Df 
earning  a  poor  living,  was  a  further  objection.  In  the  country 
few  persons  undertake  needlework  as  a  business.  Sometimes  a 
widow  with  children,  or  a  wife  whose  husband  frequents  the  tav 
ern,  earns  a  scanty  and  ill-paid  addition  to  her  means  in  this  way, 
and  with  such  it  seems  hardly  right  for  the  young  and  healthy 
to  interfere.  But  "  girls"  are  universally  in  request,  and  get  as 
well  paid  and  much  better  treated  than  schoolmistresses,  with  far 
less  wearing  employment.  I  knew  that  at  Mrs.  Larkins'  Anna 
would  meet  with  decent  treatment,  and  be  sure  of  a  punctual  dol 
lar  per  week ;  since  Mr.  Larkins  hates  mixing  griddle-cakes  too 
much  ever  to  lose  a  girl  for  want  of  this  essential  security. 

The  thing  was  settled,  and  all  I  could  do  was  to  procure  the 
introduction. 

Mrs.  Larkins  was  at  first  a  little  afraid  of  "  such  a  lady"  for 
a  help,  but  after  a  close  and  searching  examination,  she  consent 
ed  to  engage  Miss  Clifford  for  a  week. 

I  left  Anna  in  excellent  spirits,  and,  during  several  evening 
visits  which  she  contrived  to  make  me  in  the  course  of  this  her 
first  week  of  servitude,  she  declared  herself  well  satisfied  with 
her  situation,  and  only  afraid  that  Mrs.  Larkins  would  not  care 
to  retain  one  who  was  so  awkward  about  many  things  required  in 
her  household.  But  she  must  have  underrated  her  own  skill,  for 
on  the  Saturday  evening,  Mr.  Larkins  put  into  her  hands  a  silver 
dollar,  with  a  very  humble  request  for  a  permanent  engagement. 

The  spending  of  that  dollar,  Anna  Clifford  declared  to  me  was 
the  greatest  pleasure  she  could  remember. 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  183 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CHARACTERISTICS. 

That  maid  is  bom  of  middle  earth. 
And  may  of  man  be  won. 

THAT  blessed  privilege  of  the  state  of  "  girlhood"  in  the  coun 
try — the  undisturbed  possession  of  Sunday — not  falling  to  the  lot 
of  Miss  Clifford,  she  could  only  snatch  a  moment  to  visit  her  mo 
ther  and  sister,  and  deposit  with  the  latter  the  various  little  mat 
ters  which  were  the  fruit  of  her  first  earnings.  She  we*it,  how- 
ever,  in  high  spirits.  "  Poor  Rose  will  be  so  happy  !"  she  said. 

When  she  returned,  a  cloud  sat  on  her  beautiful  brow,  and  her 
cheeks  bore  the  marks  of  much  weeping.  "  Mamma  received 
me  very  coldly,"  she  said ;  "  she  thinks  I  am  enjoying  myself 
with  you  !  But  I  must  bear  this — it  is  a  part  of  my  duty,  and  I 
thought  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  it.  'Twill  be  but  a  little 
while  !  When  Augustus  comes,  all  will  be  well  again." 

Strong  in  virtuous  resolution,  Anna  returned  to  her  toil.  An 
other  week  or  two  passed,  and  the  Larkinses  continued  to  esteem 
themselves  the  most  fortunate  of  girl-hunters.  Anna's  active  hab 
its,  strong  sense,  and  high  principle,  made  all  go  well ;  and  the 
influence  which  she  soon  established  over  the  household,  was  such 
as  superior  intellect  would  naturally  command,  where  there  was 
no  idea  of  difference  of  station.  Mrs.  Larkins  would  have  thought 
the  roughest  of  her  neighbours'  daughters  entitled  to  a  full  equal 
ity  with  herself;  and  she  treated  Miss  Clifford  with  all  the  addi 
tional  respect  which  her  real  superiority  demanded.  It  has  been 
well  said  that  the  highest  intellectual  qualifications  may  find  em 
ployment  in  the  arrangements  of  a  household  ;  and  our  friends 
the  Larkinses,  young  and  old,  if  they  had  ever  heard  of  the  doc 
trine,  would,  J  doubt  not,  have  subscribed  to  it  heartily,  for  they 
will  never  forget  Miss  Clifford's  reign.  Without  dictating,  like 
good  Mrs.  Mason,  in  the  Cottagers  of  Glenburnie,  (whose 


184  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


I  have  sometimes  thought,  must  have  been  harder  to  bear  than 
other  people's  injuries,)  she  continued  to  introduce  many  excel 
lent  improvements,  and  indeed  a  general  reform  throughout. 
The  beds  were  shielded  from  public  view  ;  the  family  ablutions 
were  no  longer  performed  in  an  iron  skillet  on  the  hearth,  or  a 
trough  under  the  eaves  ;  and  Mrs.  Larkins  solemnly  burnt  the 
willow  switch  which  had  hitherto  been  her  only  means  of  govern 
ment,  declaring  the  children  never  required  it  under  Miss  Clif 
ford's  excellent  management.  Thus  encouraged  by  her  success 
in  the  process  of  civilization,  Anna  told  me  laughingly  that  she 
did  not  despair  of  the  highest  step— to  induce  Mrs,  Larkins  to 
boil  corned  beef  instead  of  frying  it,  and  Mr.  Larkins  to  leave  off 
tobacco.  And  far  from  feeling  degraded  by  her  labours,  she  said 
she  "was  quite  raised  in  her  own  opinion  by  the  discovery  of  her 
power  of  being  useful. 

I  own  I  suspected  a  little  the  solidity  of  this  boast  of  independ 
ence.  We  sometimes  say  such  things  for  a  double  purpose — as 
a  boy  passing  through  a  church-yard  at  night  whistles  partly  to 
show  he  is  not  afraid  and  partly  to  keep  up  his  courage.  Anna's 
position  with  regard  to  the  people  with  whom  she  lived,  was  in 
deed,  as  we  have  said,  one  of  decided  superiority.  To  see  her 
rnaid  well  drest  and  at  leisure  every  afternoon,  seated  in  the 
"  keepin'-room"  ready  to  be  introduced  to  any  one  who  should 
call ;  to  give  her  always  the  lady-like  title  of  "  Miss,"  and  to 
share  with  her  whatever  was  laborious  or  unpleasant  in  the  daily 
business — this  Mrs.  Larkins  considered  perfectly  proper  in  all 
cases,  and  to  Miss  Clifford  she  gladly  conceded  more  in  the  way 
of  respectful  observance.  But  in  this  vulgar  world,  spite  of  all 
that  philosophers  have  said  and  poets  sung,  there  lurks  yet  a  cer 
tain  degree  of  prejudice,  which  makes  real  independence  not  one 
of  the  cfieap  virtues. 

All  lots  are  equal,  and  all  states  the  same, 
Alike  in  merit  though  unlike  in  name. 

Yet  if  we  look  for  a  recognition  of  this  truth  any  where  out  of 
the  woods,  we  shall  probably  be  frowned  upon  as  very  wild  waifs 
from  dream-land — visionaries,  who,  in  this  enlightened  age,  can 
still  cling  to  the  antiquated  notion,  that  theory  should  be  the  mould 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  185 

of  practice.  So,  in  my  pride  of  worldly  wisdom,  I  took  upon  me 
to  doubt  whether  my  friend  Anna  was  indeed  the  heroine  she 
thought  herself.  The  matter  was  not  long  doubtful. 

Among  the  gentlemen  who  had  been  disposed  to  play  the  agree 
able  to  Miss  Clifford,  was  a  certain  Captain  Maguire,  an  Irish 
officer,  who  had  met  her  in  Montreal.  From  Anna  herself  one 
would  never  have  learned  that  her  beauty  had  found  a  solitary 
adorer;  but  the  tender  and  unselfish  Rose  could  not  help  boasting 
a  little,  in  her  quiet  way,  of  the  triumphs  of  her  sister's  charms. 
She  had  thought  well  of  the  Captain's  pretensions,  and  rather 
wondered  that  his  handsome  person  and  gallant  bearing  had  not 
made  some  impression  upon  Anna,  who  was  the  object  of  his  de 
voted  attention. 

"But  Anna  thought  him  a  coxcomb,"  she  said,  "and  never 
gave  him  the  least  crumb  of  encouragement ;  so,  poor  fellow !  he 
gave  over  in  despair." 

Now,  as  it  would  happen,  just  at  the  wrong  time,  this  unen- 
couraged  and  despairing  gentleman  chanced  to  be  one  of  a  party 
who  made  a  flying  pilgrimage  to  the  prairies  ;  and  being  thus  far 
favoured  by  chance,  he  took  his  further  fate  into  his  own  hands, 
so  far  as  sufficed  to  bring  him  to  the  humble  village  which  he  had 
understood  to  be  shone  upon  temporarily  by  the  bright  eyes  of 
Miss  Clifford.  He  went  first  to  her  mother's,  of  course,  and  du 
ring  a  short  call,  ascertained  from  the  old  lady  that  her  youngest 
daughter  was  on  a  visit  to  us.  The  Captain  was  not  slow  in 
taking  advantage  of  the  information,  and  he  was  at  our  door 
before  Rose  had  at  all  made  up  her  mind  what  should  be  done  in 
such  an  emergency. 

I  was  equally  embarrassed,  since  one  never  knows  on  what 
nice  point  those  things  called  love  affairs  may  turn.  However,  I 
detained  the  Captain,  and  wrote  a  note  to  Miss  Clifford.  What 
was  my  surprise  when  a  verbal  answer  was  returned,  inviting 
Captain  Maguire  and  myself  to  Mrs.  Larkins'.  There  was  no 
alternative,  so  I  shawled  forthwith  ;  but  I  really  do  not  know  how 
I  led  the  young  gentleman  through  the  shop  into  the  rag-carpeted 
sitting-room  of  Mrs.  Larkins.  The  scene  upon  which  the  door 
opened  must  have  been  a  novel  one  for  fashionable  optics. 

Anna  Clifford,  with  a  white  apron  depending  from  her  taper 


186  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

waist,  stood  at  the  ironing-table,  half  hidden  by  a  clothes-frame 
already  well  covered  with  garments  of  all  sizes.  Mrs.  Larkins 
occupied  her  own,  dear,  creaking  rocking-chair;  holding  a  little 
one  in  her  lap,  and  jogging  another  in  the  cradle,  while  blue-eyed 
minims  trotted  about  or  sat  gravely  staring  at  the  strangers. 

"  Get  up,  young  'uns  !"  said  Mrs.  Larkins,  hastily,  as  Captain 
Maguire's  imposing  presence  caught  her  eye,  and  Miss  Clifford 
came  forward  to  welcome  him  ;  "Jump  up!  clear  out  !"  And 
as  she  spoke  she  tipped  one  of  the  minims  off  a  chair,  offering  the 
vacated  seat  to  the  gentleman,  who,  not  noticing  that  it  was  a 
nursing-chair,  some  three  or  four  inches  lower  than  usual,  plump 
ed  into  it  after  a  peculiar  fashion,  a  specimen  of  bathos  far  less 
amusing  to  the  young  officer  than  to  the  infant  Larkinses,  who 
burst  into  a  very  natural  laugh. 

"  Shut  up  !"  said  the  mother,  reprovingly ;  "  you  haven't  a 
grain  o'  manners !  What  must  you  blaat  out  so  for  ?"  Then 
turning  to  the  Captain  with  an  air  of  true  maternal  mortification, 
she  observed,  "  I  dare  say  you've  noticed  how  much  worse  chil 
dren  always  behave  when  there's  company.  Mine  always  act 
like  Sancho !  How  do  you  do,  sir,  and  how's  your  folks  ?" 

This  civility  was  delivered  with  an  indescribable  drawl,  and 
an  accent  which  can  never  be  expressed  on  paper. 

Captain  Maguire  replied  by  giving  satisfactory  assurance  of 
his  own  health  ;  but  having  a  large  family  connection  and  no 
particular  home,  perhaps  thought  it  unnecessary  to  notice  the 
second  branch  of  Mrs.  Larkins'  inquiry. 

Miss  Clifford  meanwhile  asked  after  friends  in  Montreal  and 
elsewhere,  and  entertained  her  dashing  beau  with  all  the  ease  and 
grace  that  belonged  to  the  drawing-rooms  in  which  they  had  last 
met.  It  was  most  amusing  to  note  the  air  with  which  Anna  ran 
over  the  splendid  names  of  her  quondam  friends,  and  contrast  it 
with  the  puzzled  look  which  would  make  itself  evident,  spite  of 
"  power  of  face,"  in  the  countenance  of  her  visitor.  Never  was 
man  more  completely  mystified. 

At  the  very  first  pause,  Mrs.  Larkins,  who  was  particularly 
social,  and  who  had  seemed  watching  a  chance  to  "  put  in,"  asked 
the  Captain,  with  much  earnestness,  if  he  knew  "  a  man  by  the 
name  of  Maguire,"  who  had  been  in  "  Canady"  in  the  last  war. 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  1ST 

"  Was  he  any  relation  to  the  Captain  ?  He  used  to  peddle  some 
among  the  sojers  around  Montreal  and  those  parts." 

The  Captain  declared  he  did  not  recollect  the  gentleman,  but 
he  had  hundreds  of  Irish  cousins,  and  thought  it  highly  probable 
that  Mrs.  Larkins'  friend  might  be  one  of  them. 

"  Oh  !  he  wasn't  an  Irishman  at  all !  He  was  a  very  respect 
able  man  !"  said  the  lady. 

"  Ah  then  !"  remarked  the  Captain,  with  perfect  gravity,  "  I'm 
quite  sure  he  can't  be  one  of  my  cousins  !" 

And  Mrs.  Larkins  gravely  replied,  "  No,  I  dare  say  he  wasn't; 
but  1  thought  I'd  ask.  What  are  you  a  cracklin'  so  between  your 
teeth  ?"  continued  she,  addressing  Daniel  Webster. 

"  Oh  !  the  bark  of  pork,"  replied  the  young  gentleman. 

"  Rind,  Webster,"  said  Anna ;  "  you  should  say  rind." 

11  Well  !  rind,  then,"  was  the  reply. 

Mr.  Larkins  now  brought  in  a  huge  armful  of  stove-wood, 
which  he  threw  into  a  corner  with  a  loud  crash. 

"  Will  there  be  as  much  wood  as  you'll  want,  Miss  Clifford  ?" 
said  he. 

"  Yes — quite  enough,  thank  you,"  said  Anna,  composedly  ;  "  I 
have  nearly  finished  the  ironing." 

At  this,  the  Captain,  with  a  look  in  which  was  concentrated  the 
essence  of  a  dozen  shrugs,  took  his  leave,  declaring  himself  quite 
delighted  to  have  found  Miss  Clifford  looking  so  well. 

We  were  no  sooner  in  the  open  air  than  he  began — and  I  did 
not  wonder — 

"  May  I  ask — will  you  tell  me,  Madam,  what  is  the  meaning 
of  Miss  Clifford's  travestie  ?  Is  she  masquerading  for  some  frol 
ic  1  or  is  it  a  bet  ? — for  I  know  young  ladies  do  bet,  some 
times — " 

"  Neither,  sir,"  I  replied.  "  Miss  Clifford  is,  in  sad  and  sober 
earnest,  filling  the  place  of  a  servant,  that  she  may  procure  the 
necessaries  of  life  for  her  family.  More  than  one  friend  would 
gladly  offer  aid  in  an  emergency  which  we  trust  will  be  only 
temporary,  but  Miss  Clifford,  with  rare  independence,  prefers  de 
voting  herself  as  you  have  seen." 

'»  Bless  my  soul  !  what  a  noble  girl !  What  uncommon  spirit 
and  resolution  !  I  never  heard  anything  like  it !  Such  a  splen- 


188  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 

did  creature  tt  be  so  sacrificed  !"  These  and  a  hundred  other  en 
thusiastic  expressions  broke  from  the  gay  Captain,  while  I  re 
counted  some  of  the  circumstances  whicli  had  brought  Mrs.  Clif 
ford's  family  to  this  low  ebb ;  but  as  he  pursued  his  trip  to  the 
prairies  the  next  morning  without  attempting  to  procure  another 
interview  with  the  lady  he  so  warmly  admired,  I  came  to  the 
conclusion — not  a  very  uncharitable  one,  I  hope — that  Anna  had 
shown  her  usual  acuteness  in  the  estimate  she  had  formed  of  his 
character. 

Perhaps  the  Captain  thought  his  pay  too  trifling  to  be  shared 
with  so  exalted  a  heroine.  But  we  must  not  complain,  for  his 
mystified  look  and  manner  at  Mrs.  Larkins'  affords  us  a  perma 
nent  income  of  laughter,  which  is  something  in  these  dull  times; 
and  I  have  learned,  by  means  of  his  visit,  that  there  is  one  really 
independent  woman  in  the  world. 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  189 


CHAPTER  V. 

DARKNESS    AND    LIGHT. 

Time  and  tide  had  thus  their  sway, 
Yielding,  like  an  April  day, 
Smiling  noon  for  sullen  morrow, 
Years  of  joy  for  hours  of  sorrow. 

As  levying  day  had  come  before  it  was  expected,  so  selling 
day,  the  time  so  dreaded  by  the  affectionate  daughters,  came  duly 
on,  and  no  tidings  yet  of  Augustus,  Many  letters  had  been  for 
warded  to  his  address  in  New  York,  and  no  answers  arriving,  the 
anxiety  of  the  family  had  been  such  as  almost  to  drown  all  sense 
of  the  hopeless,  helpless  destitution  which  now  seemed  to  threaten 
them.  Being  alone  at  this  time,  and  wishing  that  whatever  it 
was  possible  to  do  might  be  done  properly  for  Mrs.  Clifford.  I  took 
the  liberty  of  sending  for  a  neighbour,  that  is,  a  country  neigh 
bour — one  who  lived  "  next  door  about  four  miles  off" — a  gen 
tleman  well  versed  in  the  law,  though  not  practising  profession 
ally. 

Mr.  Edward  Percival,  this  friend  of  ours,  came  into  this  coun 
try — then  a  land  of  promise  indeed — some  seven  years  since. 
Having  inherited  a  large  tract  of  wild  land,  he  chose  to  leave 
great  advantages  behind  him  for  the  sake  of  becoming  an  im 
prover — a  planter — a  pioneer — what  not  ?  There  must  be  some 
marvellous  witchery  in  the  idea  of  being  a  land-holder,  if  we  may 
judge  by  the  number  of  people  who  undertake  this  wild,  rough  liie 
without  the  slightest  necessity.  Englishmen  seem  to  be  peculiar 
ly  attracted  by  the  idea  of  unlimited  shooting — a  privilege  so  jeal 
ously  monopolized  by  the  great  in  their  own  country ;  but  with 
our  own  citizens  this  is  usually  a  matter  of  small  interest.  Be 
the  spell  what  it  may,  we  shall  not  wish  to  see  it  reversed  while 
it  brings  us  neighbours  like  Mr.  Percival. 

He  came,  he  saw,  he  conquered — and  Csesar's  victory  must 


J90  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

pale  by  comparison,  for  Mr.  Percival  overcame  a  sheriff,  and  ob 
tained  an  extension  of  time.  I  say  he  came — that  was  a  matter 
of  course,  seeing  he  was  sent  for  by  a  lady.  He  saw — but  I  am 
sadly  afraid  it  was  not  the  sight  either  of  Mrs.  Clifford  or  myself 
that  enlisted  his  sympathies  so  completely.  lie  saw  two  very 
lovely  young  ladies — for  Anna  had  easily  obtained  a  furlough  for 
a  day  that  she  might  comfort  her  mother  and  sister  under  t;ieir 
trials.  And  Mr.  Edward  Percival,  though  no  beau,  was  made 
of"  penetrable  stuff,"  and  felt  his  heart  strangely  moved  by  the 
unaffected  sensibility  and  dutiful  solicitude  of  those  two  sad-heart- 
ed  daughters.  By  what  particular  course  of  strategy  he  con 
quered  Sheriff  Beals  I  have  never  learned,  but  I  have  understood 
there  is  but  one  avenue  to  law-hardened  hearts,  and  I  suppose 
some  knowledge  of  the  profession  had  endued  Mr.  Percival  with 
the  acumen  required  for  discovering  this  covered  way. 

The  result  was  that  Mrs.  Clifford  retained  her  fine  old  chased 
gold  watch,  with  its  massive  hook  and  crested  seal,  with  several 
other  "superfluities"  on  which  the  law  had  laid  its  chill  grasp; 
and  the  two  Miss  Cliffords,  though  they  did  not  fall  at  Mr.  Per- 
cival's  feet  to  thank  him  for  his  intervention,  looked  as  if  they 
could  have  done  so ;  and  the  gentleman  himself,  as  he  took  his 
leave,  gave  utterance  to  some  consoling  expressions,  which  fell 
with  strange  warmth  from  lips  usually  very  guarded.  So  all 
was  well  thus  far. 

But  Augustus  came  not.  Anna  returned  to  her  householdry, 
Mrs.  Clifford  to  her  reading,  and  Rose  to  her  round  of  anxious 
cares  and  painful  economy.  Another  week  wore  away — another 
mail  readied  our  Thule,  and  brought  no  tidings  from  the  lost  one. 
Agonizing  apprehensions  were  fast  assuming  the  form  of  certain 
ties,  and  even  Anna  was  yielding  to  despair,  when  Mr.  Percival, 
who  had  not  failed  to  acquaint  himself  with  the  condition  of 
things,  announced  his  intention  of  going  to  New  York,  and 
offered  his  services  in  making  the  requisite  inquiries  after  young 
Clifford. 

We  have  not  been  informed  what  urgent  business  called  Mr. 
Percival  eastward,  but  conclude  it  to  have  been  something  sudden 
and  pressing,  as  he  had  returned  from  New  York  but  a  few  weeks 
before. 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  191 

The  suspense  of  our  unhappy  friends  was  destined  to  be  length 
ened  out  yet  another  week  ;  but  we  need  not  detain  our  readers 
proportionally.  At  the  end  of  that  period  then,  after  Mrs.  Clifford 
and  her  daughters  had  renounced  all  thoughts  but  one,  Mr. 
Pereival  returned,  bringing  with  him  the  long-lost  son  and  bro 
ther  ;  or,  rather,  what  might  seem  more  the  shadow  than  the 
substance  of  the  gallant  youth  who  had  left  us  some  three  months* 
before. 

Poor  Augustus — his  heart  wrung,  and  his  brain  on  the  rack 
when  he  left  us — had  been  seized  with  a  fever,  so  violent  in  its 
symptoms,  that  no  hotel  at  Buffalo  would  receive  him,  through 
fear  of  infection.  Other  lodging  places  presenting  the  same  diffi 
culty,  he  was  at  last  placed  with  a  poor  coloured  woman,  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  town;  poverty,  and  perhaps  a  better  motive,  indu 
cing  her  to  overlook  the  danger.  Here  he  was  nursed,  with  the 
tenderness  so  characteristic  of  that  kind-hearted  race,  through  a 
course  of  typhus  fever ;  and  from  the  first  he  had  never  been 
long  enough  himself  to  give  the  address  of  his  friends.  Tracing 
him  as  far  as  Buffalo  by  means  of  the  steamboat's  books,  Mr. 
Pereival  had  found  no  difficulty  in  discovering  the  place  of  his 
retreat.  The  invalid  was  beginning  to  sit  up  a  little,  and  had 
written  a  few  lines  to  his  mother  by  the  mail  of  that  very  day. 

Need  we  say  that  our  friends  forgot  even  grinding  poverty  for 
awhile  ? 

Home,  and  the  attentions  of  those  we  love,  have  wondrous  re 
storative  powers.  Augustus  gained  strength  rapidly,  and  exulted 
in  the  change  as  only  those  who  have 

Long  endured 
A  fever's  agonies,  and  fed  on  drugs, 

can  exult,  in  the  sunshine  and  the  breeze.  The  exhilaration  of 
his  spirits  amounted  almost  to  delirium.  He  would  recount  again 
and  again  the  kindness  of  his  dark  nurse,  and  in  happy  oblivion 
of  the  narrowness  of  circumstances  which  drove  him  from  home, 
reiterate  his  schemes  of  gratitude  to  poor  dear  Chloe — schemes 
devised  on  a  scale  better  befitting  past  than  present  fortunes.  As 
the  exquisite  sense  of  recovery  subsided,  however,  care  reasserted 


WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


her  empire,  and  poor  Augustus  gradually  sank  into  his  former 
condition  of  premature  gravity. 

Here,  again,  Mr.  Percival's  affairs  seemed  to  favour  our  young 
Iriend  strangely  ;  for  while  Augustus  had  been  gaining  strength 
and  losing  spirits,  that  gentleman  made  the  discovery  that  he  was 
in  pressing  want  of  an  assistant  in  his  business.  He  had  great 
tracts  of  land  in  far-away  counties,  calling  for  immediate  atten 
tion  ;  there  was  a  great  amount  of  overcharged  taxes  which  must 
be  argued  down  (if  possible)  at  various  offices  ;  he  had  distant 
and  very  slippery  debtors  —  in  short,  just  such  a  partner  as  Au 
gustus  Clifford  would  make  was  evidently  indispensable  ;  and, 
Augustus  got  well. 

Anna  had  come  home  to  help  nurse  her  brother,  but  with  such 
positive  promise  of  return,  that  Mr.  Larkins  did  not  go  girl-hunt 
ing,  but  mixed  griddle-cakes  and  dressed  the  children  unrepiningly 
during  the  interregnum.  When  Augustus  recovered,  the  secret 
of  the  weekly  dollar  was  confided  to  him,  and  Anna  prepared  for 
going  back  to  her  "  place."  The  brother  was  naturally  very 
averse  to  this,  and  laboured  hard  to  persuade  her  that  he  should 
now  be  able  to  make  all  comfortable  without  this  terrible  sacrifice. 
But  she  persisted  in  fulfilling  her  engagement,  and,  moreover, 
declared  that  it  really  was  not  a  sacrifice  worth  naming. 

"  Look  at  your  hands,  dear  Anna  !"  said  Rose. 

"  Oh  !  I  do  look  at  them  —  but  what  then  ?  Of  what  possible 
use  are  white  satin  hands  in  the  country  ?  I  should  have  browned 
them  with  gardening,  if  nothing  else;  and  when  once  Uncle  Har- 
grave's  money  comes,  a  few  weeks'  gloving  will  make  a  lady  of 
me  again." 

"  But  Mr.  Percival,  I  am  sure  —  "  Rose  tried  to  whisper,  but 
Anna  would  not  hear  her,  and  only  ran  away  the  faster. 

By  and  by,  Uncle  Hargrave's  legacy  did  come,  and  whether 
by  a  gloving  process  or  not,  it  was  not  long  before  Anna's  hands 
recovered  their  beauty.  Mrs.  Larkins  lost  the  best  "  help"  she 
ever  had,  and  Anna  at  length  told  all  to  her  mother,  who  learned 
more  by  means  of  this  effort  of  her  daughter,  than  all  her  mis 
fortunes  had  been  able  to  teach  her. 

The  legacy,  like  many  a  golden  dream,  had  been  tricked  out 
by  the  capricious  wand  of  Fancy.  In  its  real  and  tangible  form, 


HALF-LENGTHS  FROM  LIFE.  193 

far  from  enabling  Mrs.  Clifford  to  return  to  city  splendour,  it 
proved  so  moderate  in  size  that  she  was  obliged  to  perceive  that  a 
comfortable  home  even  in  the  country  would  depend,  in  some 
degree,  on  economy  and  good  management.  Certainty  being 
thus  substituted  for  the  vague  and  glittering  phantom  which  had 
misled  her,  and  helped  to  benumb  her  naturally  good  understand 
ing,  she  set  herself  about  the  work  of  reform  with  more  vigour 
than  could  have  been  anticipated  ;  and  an  expression  of  quiet 
happiness  again  took  possession  of  faces  which  had  long  been 
saddened  by  present  or  dreaded  evils. 

Strange  to  say,  Mr.  Edward  Percival,  by  nature  the  most  frank, 
manly,  straightforward  person  in  the  world,  seems  lately  to  have 
taken  a  manoeuvring  turn.  After  showing  very  unmistakable 
signs  of  an  especial  admiration  of  Mrs.  Larkins'  "girl,"  he 
scarce  ventures  to  offer  her  the  slightest  attention.  At  the  same 
time,  his  interest  in  the  ponderous  mamma  is  remarkable,  to  say 
the  least.  Hardly  a  fine  day  passes  that  does  not  see  a  certain 
low  open  carriage  at  Mrs.  Clifford's  door,  and  a  grave  but  gallant 
cavalier — handsome  arid  well-equipped — soliciting  the  old  lady's 
company  for  a  short  drive.  This  is  certainly  a  very  delicate 
mode  of  mesmerizing  a  young  lady,  but  it  is  not  without  effect. 
Anna  does  not  go  to  sleep — far  from  it !  but  her  eyelids  are 
observed  to  droop  more  than  usual,  and  choice  flowers,  which 
come  almost  daily  from  the  mesmerizer's  green-house,  are  very 
apt  to  find  their  way  from  the  parlour  vase  to  the  soft  ringlets  of 
the  lovely  sleep-waker.  What  these  signs  may  portend  we  must 
leave  to  the  scientific. 

Mr.  Percival  came  from  the  very  heart's  core  of  Yankeeland  ; 
he  may  say  with  Barlow, 

All  my  bones  are  made  of  Indian  corn — 

he  is  a  conscientious  Presbyterian,  and  he  has  been  four  years  a 
widower.  All  these  disabilities  have  been  duly  represented  to 
Miss  Clifford  ;  nay — I  will  not  aver  that  they  may  not  even  have 
been  wickedly  dwelt  upon — thrown  in  her  teeth,  as  it  were,  by 
one  who  loves  to  tease  such  victims  ;  and  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion,  which  Anna  herself  suggested  to  ire  the  other  day, 
hiding  at  the  same  time  her  blushing  face  on  my  shoulder,  after  a 
confidential  chit-chat,  "  There  certainly  is  a  fate  in  these  things." 

14 


194  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


AN  EMBROIDERED   FACT. 


ALL  the  stories  in  this  volume  are  from  the  life — either  in  facts 
or  characters,  or  both  ;  but  the  one  which  succeeds  is  as  nearly 
a  transcript  of  actual  reality,  as  could  well  be  without  giving 
names  and  dates.  The  ride  and  its  object — the  suspicion — the 
pursuit — the  arrest — and  the  denouement — were  described  to 
me  by  the  hero  himself,  ere  yet  the  memory  of  the  toilsome  win- 
ning  of  his  beautiful  bride  had  lost  any  of  its  freshness. 

What  the  phrenologists  call  "  approbativeness"  is  an  excellent 
development,  but  we  may  have  it  too  full.  People  born  without  it 
are  intolerable — those  who  have  a  superabundance,  pay  dearly 
enough  for  being  agreeable.  They  win,  without  conscious  effort, 
— instinctively,  as  it  were, — "  golden  opinions"  from  those  with 
whom  they  associate  ;  and  too  good  a  reputation  is  sometimes  a 
severe  tax  in  more  ways  than  one.  As  with  other  luxuries,  it 
costs  a  good  deal  to  support  it.  One  of  our  friends  got  rid  of  his, 
inadvertently.  We  have  the  story  from  himself,  only  adding  some 
explanations  of  our  own. 

George  Elliott  had,  from  his  childhood,  been  the  model  of  all  ex 
cellence  among  his  own  family.  His  parents  had  other  children, 
and  they  all  did  very  much  as  they  pleased,  not  having  set  out 
with  a  character  to  support.  They  did  not  always  please  to  pre 
fer  what  was  wisest ;  and  then  they  were  sure  of  a  lecture,  to 
which  George's  prudence  and  self-government  afforded  the  text. 

George  must  have  been  really  a  good  fellow,  for  his  brothers 
loved  him  in  spite  of  his  position  ;  and  as  for  his  sisters,  they 
thought  no  mortal  man,  and  hardly  even  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,  ap 
proached  him  in  excellence.  He  was,  in  truth,  less  spoiled  by  this 
general  homage  than  was  to  be  expected.  The  shape  of  his  head 
was  not  improved  by  the  cultivation  of  a  faculty  which  shows  it- 


AX  EMBROIDERED  FACT.  105 

self  in  squaring  out  the  bead  just  on  each  side  the  crown  ;  but 
bis  black  hair  hid  the  superfluity,  and  the  ceaseless  good  humour 
that  beamed  from  his  eyes,  joined  to  a  fine  ruddy  complexion  and 
white  teeth,  made  him  an  Adonis  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  young  la 
dies  of  the  neighbourhood.  Not  a  house  but  was  open  to  him — 
not  a  mamma  but  smiled  upon  him.  He  was  already  "  well  to 
do,"  and  such  qualities  as  his  promised  constant  bettering. 

But  here,  again,  George  experienced  the  disadvantage  of  be 
ing  too  well  liked.  The  invariable  welcome  which  awaited  him, 
the  capital  footing  on  which  he  stood  with  the  mammas  and  papas, 
and  the  fear  that  whenever  he  should  select  a  special  partner,  it 
would  be  at  the  expense  of  a  large  amount  of  friendship  and  atten 
tion,  had  kept  him  undecided  until  five-and-twenty  ;  and,  we  fear, 
a  little  too  well  satisfied  with  himself  to  promise  uncommonly  well 
as  a  husband. 

Among  his  perfections, — in  his  father's  eyes,  at  least, — was  a 
strict  and  energetic  attention  to  matters  of  business.  He  was  the 
factotum  in  every  affair  requiring  peculiar  skill  and  discretion. 
He  travelled,  he  negotiated,  he  advised.  Never  was  there  an 
eldest  son  on  whose  indomitable  prudence  a  father  could  rely  so  com 
pletely.  Was  a  hard  thing  to  be  said,  George  must  say  it — be 
cause  George  could  say  it  without  hurting  any  body's  feelings. 
Was  a  slippery  debtor  to  be  approached,  George  was  the  messen 
ger  ;  and  if  it  proved  necessary  to  follow  the  "  defaulter'"'  to 
Texas,  he  never  flinched,  and  generally  returned  with  man  or 
money.  We  will  not  say  that  such  trusts  were  always  agreea 
ble  ;  indeed,  we  have  already  hinted  that  our  friend  sometimes 
found  his  reputation  rather  costly.  But  developments  are  fate, 
and  his  "  approbativeness"  kept  on  growing. 

Once  upon  a  time,  when  affairs  called  George  from  home,  ho 
was  about  to  pass  the  night  in  a  village,  about  sixty-five  miles 
from  his  father's  residence.  There  was  no  one  to  visit,  for  ho 
knew  none  but  the  gentleman  with  whom  his  business  lay  ;  and 
he  strolled  out  after  tea,  as  men  will  when  they  have  nothing  else 
to  do,  not  exactly  seeking  adventure,  but  in  a  mood  of  mind  to  be 
well  pleased  with  any  thing  that  should  occur,  to  help  off  the 
evening.  He  paced  the  bank  of  the  noisy  little  "  privilege''  that 
turned  the  grist-mill,  the  carding  machine  and  the  trip  hammer, 


106  WKSTERN    CLEARINGS. 


which  formed  the  wealth  of  the  village,  until  the  light  had  faded 
to  that  pleasant  gray  which  we  poetically  call  dusk  ;  and  he  was 
about  returning  to  the  inn  to  read  the  newspaper  over  again,  when 
a  wild-looking  girl,  with  a  shawl  over  her  head,  accosted  him. 

"  They  want  you,  up  yander,"  she  said,  in  a  mumbling  and 
embarrassed  tone. 

George's  eyes  followed  the  direction  of  the  thick  red  finger, 
and  rested  upon  a  pretty  cottage  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  at  no  great 
distance. 

"  Who  wants  me  ?     There  must  be  some  mistake." 

The  girl  stood  perfectly  still,  staring  straight  forward. 

"  Who  is  it  that  wishes  to  see  me  ?"  repeated  George.  "  Whom 
were  you  tqld  to  ask  for  ?" 

"  You're  the  one,"  said  the  messenger,  confidently.  "  I've  for 
got  the  name." 

"  Was  it  Elliott  ?"  asked  George. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  messenger  ;  "  they  want  you  right  off." 

Musingly  did  George  follow  the  girl  up  the  hillside,  perfectly 
convinced  of  the  impracticability  of  getting  any  thing  more  out 
of  her,  and  tolerably  certain  that  he  could  not  be  the  person  in 
requisition.  Why  did  he  go  then  ?  We  have  already  said  that 
he  was  born  to  oblige,  and  also  that  he  found  the  Templeville  ho 
tel  somewhat  dull. 

The  clumsy. footed  emissary  turned  into  a  little  court,  full  of 
spring  flowers,  and  passing  through  a  porch  shaded  to  perfect 
darkness  by  climbing  plants,  opened  a  door  on  the  right.  The 
room  thus  disclosed  was  a  pretty  rural  parlour,  on  the  sofa  of 
which  lay  a  young  girl  in  a  white  wrapper,  with  an  elderly  lady 
sitting  by  her  side. 

"  Here  he  is,"  said  the  girl  ;  "  I've  fetched  'urn." 

The  young  lady  started — the  elder  screamed  outright. 

"  Who  is  this  ?"  said  the  more  ancient,  turning  to  the  girl  with 
an  annihilating  frown,  and  seeming  entirely  to  forget  that  the 
young  man  might  be  innocent,  and  was  therefore  entitled  to  decent 
treatment. 

"  I  perceive  there  has  been  some  mistake,  madam,"  began  our 
discomfited  incomparable. 

"Mistake!     Oh  yes,   I  dare  say!"    muttered  the  guardian, 


AN  EMBROIDERED  FACT.  197 


with  a  most  unbelieving  air.  Then  turning  to  the  stupid  maid, 
she  proceeded  to  scold  her  in  an  under  tone,  but  with  inconceiva 
ble  rapidity  and  sharpness,  while  George  stood  most  uneasily 
waiting  the  result.  He  felt  inclined  to  disappear  at  once,  but  that 
course  seemed  liable  to  further  misconstruction  ;  and  he  was, 
moreover,  rather  attracted  by  the  invalid,  who,  though  embar 
rassed,  lost  not  her  ladylike  self-possession. 

"  The  girl  is  newly  come  to  us,  and  quite  ignorant,"  she  said, 
in  rather  a  deprecatory  tone.  "  She  was  sent  for  our  physician, 
and  must  have  mistaken  you — " 

"  Oh,  very  likely,"  interrupted  the  elder^lady,  who  forgot  to 
scold  the  maid  as  soon  as  the  young  lady  ventured  to  speak  to 
George.  "  Doctor  Beasley,  with  his  bald  head  and  one  eye,  is 
exceedingly  like  this  gentleman  !  Quite  probable  that  Hetty 
mistook  the  one  for  the  other  !" 

The  air  of  incredulity  with  which  this  was  said  could  not  be 
mistaken  ;  but  the  implication  was  one  which  it  was  impossible 
to  notice  under  the  circumstances  ;  and  George  concluded  that 
the  only  course  left  for  him  was  to  make  his  bow  and  leave  his 
character  behind  him. 

As  he  turned,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  a  letter  fell  from  it  to 
the  floor,  unobserved  by  him  in  his  embarrassment.  He  had  not 
cleared  the  porch,  when  the  maid  ran  after  him  with  it. 

"  Here,  Mister,  they  say  they  don't  want  none  of  yer  letters." 

George  looked  in  his  hat,  found  he  must  have  dropt  a  letter, 
and  took  it,  though  it  was  now  too  dark  to  examine  it.  Here 
was  a  new  confirmation  of  the  evident  suspicions  of  the  lady- 
dragon  as  to  some  designs  upon  her  fair  charge. 

Is  it  singular  that  a  conviction  began  to  dawn  upon  his  mind 
that  the  said  charge  must  possess  considerable  attractions  ? 

"  Don't  touch  that  thing  upon  the  table,"  says  grandmamma,  to 
the  little  one  who  is  quietly  playing  on  the  floor. 

"  No,  grandma,"  says  the  youth,  and  immediately  leaves  his 
play  to  get  up  and  walk  round  and  round  the  table,  trying  to 
reach  the  prohibited  article. 

George  the  prudent  slept  little  that  night.  The  young  lady's 
eyes  and  voice,  the  delicate  and  languid  grace  of  her  figure,  as 
she  lay  extended-in  evident  feebleness  on,  the  sofa,  rather  unhinged 


198  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

his  philosophy  ;  and  he  was,  besides,  not  a  little  troubled  by  the 
recollection  of  the  spiteful  air  of  the  duenna,  and  the  probability 
that  the  error  had  cost  the  fair  invalid  some  discomfort.  Alto 
gether,  there  was  food  for  reverie  ;  and  a  hasty,  un  re  freshing 
morning  slumber  had  not  made  amends  for  a  wakeful  night, 
when  he  was  aroused  by  the  breakfast  bell. 

Inquiries  respecting  the  people  of  the  cottage  elicited  only  the 
interesting  information,  that  there  was  "  an  oldish  wroman,  and  a 
young  gal,"  which  added  little  to  George's  knowledge.  The 
innkeeper  guessed  they  were  "  pretty  likely  folks,"  but  couldn't 
say,  as  they  had  not  been  there  long. 

George  went  home,  but  said  nothing  of  his  adventure.  He 
said  he  did  not  think  it  worth  while.  But  he  thought  it  worth 
while,  two  weeks  afterwards,  to  travel  the  sixty-five  miles  which 
lay  between  his  home  and  Templeville,  just  to  try  whether  the 
landlord  might  not  have  discovered  something  beyond  the  inter 
esting  facts  before  ascertained  as  to  the  "  young  gal"  and  her 
duenna. 

But  the  innkeeper  had  added  nothing  to  his  store  of  information 
on  this  point,  except  the  conclusion  that  the  people  on  the  hill 
were  "  fore-handed  folks,"  and  that  there  was  a  man  who  came 
once  in  a  while  to  see  them  and  brought  them  lots  of  things. 

"  A  man  !"  said  George.  "Ah  yes,"  (very  unconcernedly,  of 
course  ;)  "  of  what  age — about  ?" 

"  Oh.  he  always  comes  in  the  evening,  and  is  off  again  early 
in  the  morning.  Their  help  guesses  he's  an  uncle  or  something." 

Not  much  enlightened,  even  yet,  George  adopted  the  desperate 
resolution  of  trying  boldly  for  an  acquaintance.  He  judged  it 
absolutely  necessary  to  inquire  after  the  health  of  the  invalid. 
So,  writing  a  civil  card  of  inquiry,  he  walked  up  to  the  pretty 
cottage,  and,  after  reconnoitering  a  little,  rapped  at  the  door,  and 
awaited  the  coming  of  the  stupid  maid,  with  a  trepidation  quite 
new  to  his  quiet  and  well-assured  frame  of  mind. 

What  was  his  dismay  when  the  aunt  herself,  with  a  face  of 
iron,  opened  the  door. 

George  was  completely  at  a  loss  for  the  moment.  The  card 
was  in  his  hand,  but  he  could  not  offer  it  to  the  lady,  so  he  stam 
mered  out  something  of  his  wish  to  inquire  after  the  health  of  the 


AN  EMBROIDERED  FACT.  199 

family,  and  to  express  his  regret  for  the  misunderstanding  on  the 
former  occasion. 

Rigid  was  the  brow  with  which  the  careful  dame  heard  this 
announcement,  and  wiry  were  the  muscles  which  held  the  door 
half  shut,  as  if  defying  a  forty-young-man  power  of  getting  in 
without  consent  of  the  owner. 

"  We're  all  quite  well,  I  thank  you,"  she  said,  closing  her  lips 
as  tightly  as  possible  as  soon  as  she  had  communicated  the  infor 
mation. 

George  stood  still,  and  the  lady  stood  as  still  as  he.  She  looked 
at  the  distant  hills,  and  he  at  the  door  which  had  once  disclosed  to 
him  the  reclining  figure  in  white.  At  length,  finding  it  in  vain  to 
attempt  wearying  the  grim  portress  into  an  invitation  to  enter  this 
enchanted  castle,  he  turned  off  in  despair,  when  the  young  lady 
came  through  the  gate,  as  if  just  returning  from  a  walk. 

George  darted  towards  her,  but  the  elder  lady  scarce  allowed 
time  for  a  word. 

"  Come,  Julia,"  she  said,  "  it  is  quite  time  you  came  in." 

The  young  lady  looked  at  George  with  a  scarce  perceptible 
smile,  and  such  a  comical  expression,  that  their  acquaintance 
seemed  ripened  in  a  moment. 

"  I  must  say  good  morning,"  said  she,  in  a  rather  low  tone,  but 
so  decidedly,  that  George,  perceiving  any  attempt  for  a  longer 
interview  to  be  hopeless,  put  his  card  into  her  hand  and  departed 
— not  without  a  secret  vow  that  he  would  yet  baffle  the  duenna. 

The  sixty-five  miles  seemed  rather  long  this  time,  and  his  father 
remarked  upon  the  difficulties  which  he  must  have  encountered, 
to  account  for  a  two  days'  absence,  and  such  a  worn-out  air. 
Yet  all  this  time  George  persuaded  himself  that  it  was  not  worth 
while  to  mention  his  new  acquaintance.  He,  with  his  old  head 
upon  young  shoulders, — pattern  of  nice  young  men  ! — to  find 
himself  interested  in  a  chance  acquaintance — to  be  suspected  by 
an  ancient  lady  of  designs  upon  her  niece,  and  what  was  worse, 
to  be  conscious  of  a  strong  desire  to  furnish  some  foundation  for 
such  suspicions  !  Oh,  it  was  too  much  !  Pattern  people  find  it 
so  hard  to  come  down  to  a  neighbourly  level  with  common,  erring 
mortals  !  George  found  it  easier  to  learn  to  perform  the  Temple- 
ville  trip  in  the  space  of  twenty-four  hours,  although  it  was,  in 


200  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

reality,  pretty  good  work  for  twice  that  time.  In  truth,  it  began 
to  be  necessary  for  him  to  take  Templeville  in  his  way  to  any 
point  of  the  compass ;  and,  at  last,  chance,  or  some  other  power 
that  favours  the  determined,  gave  him  an  unexpected  advantage. 

It  was  the  elder  lady's  turn  to  be  an  invalid,  and,  while  she 
was,  perhaps,  enjoying  an  interview  with  the  veritable  Dr.  Beas- 
iey,  his  former  unwitting  representative  espied  the  now  blooming 
cheeks  of  the  young  lady  among  other  roses  in  a  pretty  little 
arbour  in  the  garden. 

"  The  garden  walls  are  high,  and  hard  to  climb,"  said  Juliet 
once  ;  and  the  pretty  Julia  of  our  story  might  have  said  much 
the  same  thing  of  the  picket  fence  which  separated  her  from  her 
new  friend.  But  George  was  on  the  other  side  of  it  before  she 
could  have  had  time  to  quote  the  line. 

Could  two  young  people,  who  met  in  this  romantic  sort  of  way, 
in  these  un romantic  times, — and  after  many  a  momentary  inter 
view,  cut  short  by  the  cares  of  a  duenna,  too, — fail  to  find  some 
very  particular  subjects  of  conversation  ?  We  ask  the  initiated, 
not  pretending  to  be  aufait  in  these  matters.  However  this  may 
be,  it  must  have  been  that  very  visit  that  enlightened  George 
Elliott  as  to  the  young  lady's  position. 

She  was  the  prospective  heiress  of  a  bachelor  uncle,  who,  in 
consequence  of  a  violent  prejudice  against  matrimony,  had  vowed 
all  practicable  vengeance  in  case  she  ventured  to  engage  herself 
before  the  mature  age  of  twenty-five,  full  six  years  of  which  were 
yet  to  come.  A  very  liberal  provision,  which  this  same  odd  uncle 
allowed  to  the  elder  lady,  Mrs.  Roberts,  who  was  his  sister  only 
by  marriage,  was  made  dependent  upon  the  same  point. 

Now,  the  natural  consequence  of  all  this  was,  first,  an  irresist 
ible  inclination  on  Julia's  part  to  iall  in  love,  just  for  the  sake  of 
seeing  whether  her  uncle  would  keep  his  word ;  and,  secondly, 
from  the  extreme  prudence  of  the  aunt  leading  her  to  take  up 
her  residence  in  a  region  of  clodhoppers,  an  inevitable  proclivity 
of  the  damsel  to  fancy  the  very  first  tall,  dark-eyed,  personable 
youth  who  should  come  in  her  way.  We  are  not  sure  that  Julia 
told  George  all  this.  We  give  it  merely  as  a  comment  of  our 
own,  by  way  of  avis  au  lecteur. 

The  garden  interview  was  prolonged  until  the  ruddy-fingered 


AN  EMBROIDERED  FACT.  201 

serving-maid  was  sent  to  seek  Miss  Julia  ;  and  as  George  was, 
on  that  occasion,  put  behind  a  thicket  of  lilacs  for  the  moment, 
we  infer  that  a  considerable  degree  of  intimacy  had  by  this  time 
been  established  between  the  young  people. 

Peaches  were  like  little  green  velvet  buttons  when  George  was 
first  mistaken  for  Dr.  Beasley,  and  before  they  were  ripe,  he  had 
learned  to  think  it  a  small  matter  to  ride  one  hundred  and  thirty 
miles  in  twenty-four  hours,  for  the  sake  of  spending  an  hour  or 
two  in  the  cottage  garden  at  Templeville,  and  occasionally  getting 
a  cup  of  tea  from  the  unwilling  fingers  of  Mrs.  Roberts. 

He  had,  in  the  mean  time,  become  the  object  of  much  remark 
at  home.  He  had  always  been  fond  of  a  good  horse,  and  rather 
celebrated  for  his  equestrian  skill ;  but  people  began  to  call  him 
a  jockey  now — so  many  fine  animals  did  he  purchase,  and  so 
many  did  he  discard  again  after  only  one  trial  on  the  Templeville 
road.  The  difficulty  of  breaking  the  subject  at  home  had  become 
greater  with  every  visit,  and  our  mirror  of  prudence  had  nearly 
persuaded  Julia  that  her  uncle's  fortune  was  of  no  sort  of  conse 
quence,  and  a  six  year's  probation  quite  out  of  the  question, 
before  he  could  resolve  to  tell  his  father  that  he  was  about  to 
marry  a  penniless  young  lady  and  her  not  very  agreeable  aunt — 
Mrs.  Roberts  being,  of  course,  to  be  taken  (fasting)  with  her  niece. 

While  the  disclosure  was  yet  to  make,  a  letter  came  for  Mr. 
George  Elliott,  postmarked  "  Templeville,"  and  directed  in  a  pro 
digious  scrawl  with  a  very  fine  pen — a  young-lady-like  attempt 
at  disguise  which  could  not  but  draw  attention  at  a  country  post- 
office,  if  any  body  could  have  suspected  so  prudent  a  youth  of 
clandestine  proceedings.  This  epistle,  being  opened,  was  found 
to  contain  only  a  few  lines,  most  cautiously  worded,  to  inform  Mr. 
George  Elliott  that  suspicions  of  treachery  and  fears  of  conse 
quent  calamity  made  a  friend  of  his  very  miserable.  Further 
specifications,  diplomatically  urged,  gave  Mr.  Elliott  to  understand 
that  the  uncle  was  expected,  and  that  there  was  reason  to  suppose 
he  had  been  induced  to  plan  a  sudden  removal  of  the  cottagers  to 
a  far  distant  and  (of  course)  inaccessible  part  of  the  country. 

The  rising  sun  of  the  next  morning  saw  Elliott  "  making 
tracks"  for  Templeville,  most  literally  ;  for  the  fierce  pace  of  his 
gallant  steed  indented  itself  upon  the  moist  soil  in  a  striking  man- 


202  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

ner.  He  must  reach  there  in  the  afternoon  at  all  hazards ;  and, 
although  he  had  more  than  once  performed  the  same  feat  before, 
he  was  now  so  anxious  lest  some  accident  should  cause  delay, 
that  he  pushed  on  with  unwonted  vehemence.  He  had  twice 
changed  horses,  and  had  passed  through  a  small  village  about 
twenty  miles  from  Templeville,  when  the  people  on  the  road  no- 
ticed  that  he  was  closely  pursued  by  two  horsemen  in  fiery  haste. 

George  rode  like  the  Wild  Huntsman,  and  his  pursuers  were 
nearly  as  well  mounted.  At  every  point  they  inquired  how  far 
the  maker  of  those  dashing  tracks  was  in  advance  of  them,  and 
their  breathless  questions  were  always  answered  in  such  terms  as 
induced  them  to  hope  their  chase  was  nearly  at  an  end.  They 
spared  neither  whip  nor  spur,  therefore ;  but  their  horses  were 
not  so  well  used  to  that  rate  of  travel,  and  one  of  them  gave  out 
entirely  just  as  they  entered  Templeville,  with  our  tired  hero  full 
in  sight. 

George  reached  the  tavern,  and  went,  as  was  his  wont,  imme 
diately  to  the  stables,  to  see  his  horse  cared  for.  He  examined 
several  stalls  before  he  chose  one,  and  was  giving  his  directions 
to  the  ostler  when  he  was  rather  roughly  accosted  by  two  per 
sons,  who  took  their  places  on  either  side  of  him,  and  began  in 
very  aggressive  style  asking  him  various  questions.  Our  pru 
dent  friend  was  not,  we  regret  to  say,  a  member  of  the  peace  so 
ciety  ;  and  he  responded  to  these  inquiries  in  a  way  which 
threatened  difficulties  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge. 

The  crowd  increased  every  moment.  The  whole  town  of 
Templeville  seemed  congregated  in  the  stable-yard.  '•  There  he 
is!"  "That's  him!"  "That's  the  chap!"  "I'd  know  him  for  a 
thief,  anywhere!"  were  the  cheering  exclamations  that  met  El 
liott's  ear  on  every  side. 

Not  to  dwell  unnecessarily  on  particulars,  we  may  say  at  once 
that  the  elder  of  these  gentlemen  had  been  robbed  of  a  pocket- 
book,  containing  a  large  sum  of  money,  and  that  circumstances 
favoured  the  idea  that  the  thief  had  taken  the  Templeville  road. 
George's  hard  riding  pointed  him  out  as  the  delinquent ;  and  his 
having  gone  into  several  stalls  on  his  first  arrival,  led  the  bystand 
ers  to  suppose  he  had  been  seeking  for  a  place  to  secrete  his  booty. 

We  need  not  notice  Elliott's  indignant  denials  of  the  charge. 


AN  EMBROIDERED  FACT.  203 


The  old  gentleman  took  very  little  notice  of  them,  indeed.  He 
rather  advised  him  (as  a  friend)  to  give  up  the  pocket-book  at 
once,  without  attempting  to  deceive  a  person  of  his  astuteness. 
George,  who  was  anxious  beyond  every  thing  to  be  on  his  way  to 
the  cottage,  and  who,  likewise,  felt  exceedingly  unwilling  to  call 
upon  his  only  acquaintance  in  the  village,  knowing  that  would  be 
to  insure  a  faithful  report  of  the  whole  affair  at  home,  offered  to 
submit  to  a  search,  provided  it  might  be  performed  in  private  and 
without  unnecessary  delay.  To  this,  after  some  consultation,  the 
old  gentleman  agreed ;  and  the  landlord,  (who,  by  the  way,  dis 
claimed  all  knowledge  of  the  accused,  except  that  he  had  made  a 
great  many  inquiries  as  to  the  people  at  the  cottage,)  was  show 
ing  the  way  through  the  crowd  to  an  inner  room,  when  George 
encountered  Mr.  Henderson,  the  person  to  whom  he  was  known. 

All  chance  of  escaping  recognition  was  now  at  an  end,  and  it 
became  evident  to  George  Elliott  that,  in  addition  to  the  loss  of 
consideration  by  an  imprudent  marriage,  he  must  expect  a  good 
deal  of  hard  joking  on  the  subject  of  hard  riding.  The  gaping 
crowd,  commenting  audibly  upon  every  point  of  his  physiognomy 
and  equipment,  and  agreeing,  nem.  con.,  that  he  had  state  prison 
written  upon  his  face  if  ever  a  fellow  had,  was  nothing,  compared 
with  the  keen  sense  of  mortification  which  came  with  every 
thought  of  home.  Julia's  power,  however,  was  irresistible ;  and 
George,  perceiving  that  Mr.  Henderson  knew  his  accuser,  re 
quested  an  introduction,  which  was  accordingly  performed,  to  the 
great  discomfiture  of  the  old  gentleman,  who  became  unpleasantly 
sensible  that  his  wild  goose  chase  had  led  him  a  great  way  from 
his  lost  money,  ruined  a  fine  horse,  arid  brought  him  into  very  un 
pleasant  circumstances  with  a  young  gentleman,  who,  upon  close 
examination,  did  not  look  half  so  much  like  a  gallows-bird  as  he 
had  supposed. 

"  Upon  my  word  and  honour,  sir,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  wi 
ping  his  forehead  with  an  air  of  the  greatest  perplexity,  "  I  am  ex 
tremely  sorry  for  this  mistake.  If  I  can  make  you  any  amends, 
this  gentleman,  Mr.  Henderson,  will  answer  for  me,  that  I  shall 
be  happy  to  offer  any  atonement  in  my  power." 

George,  of  course,  disclaimed  any  such  wish,  and,  only  anx 
ious  to  see  Julia,  he  shook  hands  with  his  accuser  and  hurried  off. 


204  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

Before  he  shut  the  door,  the  old  gentleman  stopped  him.  "  Will 
you  do  me  the  favour  to  tell  me,  before  we  part,  what  possible  in 
ducement  you  could  have  for  riding  at  such  a  pace  ?" 

George  laughed,  said  he  was  fond  of  fast  riding,  and  disap 
peared. 

******* 

Julia,  in  tears,  and  all  the  despair  of  nineteen,  met  George 
with  the  intelligence  that  her  aunt,  after  appearing  to  favoui 
them,  must  have  played  them  false,  and  induced  the  uncle  to  in 
sist  upon  an  immediate  change  of  residence. 

"To-morrow  morning,"  she  said,  "we  are  to  leave  here,  for 
ever.  My  uncle  has  already  arrived,  and  we  should  have  set  off 
this  evening,  but  for  the  circumstance  of  his  having  been  robbed 
on  his  way  hither." 

"  Robbed  ?"  said  George. 

"  Yes.  He  is  now  in  pursuit  of  the  thief,  and  will  not  proba 
bly  return  before  night." 

As  Julia  said  this,  sobbing  all  the  time  as  if  her  little  heart 
would  break,  not  for  her  uncle's  loss,  but  her  own  woes,  the  door 
opened,  and  George's  new  acquaintance  walked  in. 

"  Hey-day,  hey-day,  here's  a  pretty  affair !  This  is  the  nice 
youth  that  has  persuaded  you  to  throw  away  your  bread  and  but 
ter,  is  it  ?" 

Then,  coming  nearer,  and  taking  a  better  look  at  George,  who 
had  thrown  off  the  India-rubber  overcoat  which  western  men  are 
wont  to  wear  when  showers  are  probable,  he  burst  into  a  hearty 
laugh  as  he  recognized  the  object  of  his  former  suspicions. 

'*  So  it  wasn't  my  pocket-book  you  wanted,  sir  ?"  said  he. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  George,  glad  of  so  good  an  opening  for  his  suit, 
"  No,  sir  ;  it  is  your  niece,  without  any  pocket-book  at  all." 

"  Will  you  take  her  without  ?" 

"  With  all  my  heart  and  soul !" 

"  In  one  year  from  this  time  I  will  not  object,  on  those  terms," 
said  the  old  gentleman. 

But  he  probably  thought  he  owed  some  reparation  for  his  hasty 
accusation,  for,  when  the  year  was  out,  George  got  the  niece  and 
the  pocket-book  too  ;  but  he  could  not  regain  his  reputation  as 
the  mirror  of  prudence.  We  have  never  heard,  however,  that 
this  detracted  materially  from  his  happiness. 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.         205 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS. 


IN  an  attempt  at  mere  fiction,  I  should  scarcely  have  ventured 
upon  the  invention  of  a  chain  of  circumstances  so  improbable  as 
those  which  form  the  groundwork  of  the  following  sketch.  We 
accept  the  axiom  that  Truth  is  often  stranger  than  fiction  ;  yet 
the  mind  instinctively  refuses  sympathy  when  fiction  ventures  too 
far  beyond  the  bounds  of  our  own  experience  or  observation. 
Men  are  usually  supposed  to  be  actuated  by  sufficient  motives, 
and  by  those  which  correspond,  in  some  degree,  with  the  springs 
of  action  in  their  kind  at  large  ;  and  where  we  see  a  striking  de 
parture  from  this  general  rule,  we  are  apt  to  class  the  erratic 
somewhere  in  the  many-graded  list  of  the  insane — a  list  which 
has,  of  late  years,  been  made,  by  some  speculators,  long  and 
wide  enough  to  include  Roussoau  and  Byron,  as  well  as  the 
most  fiendish  murderer,  and  any  divine  who  ventures  to  look 
over  the  pale  of  his  church. 

Those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  peculiar  tone  of  society  in 
the  new  country  may  not,  perhaps,  find  my  characters  unnat- 
uarl  ;  but  it  can  hardly  be  expected  that  others  would  not  doubt 
the  truth  of  a  description  which  supposes  such  deep-seated  enmity 
towards  those  who  had  committed  no  offence,  and  such  intolerable 
wrongs  suffered  without  a  possibility  of  legal  redress.  In  ancient 
feudal  times,  small  excuse  served  when  the  superior  chose  to  vent 
his  evil  passions  upon  those  whom  Fate  had  rendered  subject  to 
his  caprice.  At  this  day,  in  the  newly  settled  part  of  the  West 
ern  country,  the  feudality  is  reversed  ;  and  it  is  the  inferior  who 
has  it  in  his  power,  by  means  of  an  unenlightened  or  corrupt  pub 
lic  sentiment,  (referring  always  with  more  or  lese  distinctness  to 
brute  force,)  to  lord  it  over  any  one  who,  by  an  inconvenient  in 
tegrity,  or  an  unpopular  refinement,  is  rendered  obnoxious  to  those 


206  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 


who  are  more  disposed  to  resent  than  to  imitate  what  pretends  to 
superiority.  Thus  much  for  the  probability  of  what  may  nat 
urally  be  expected  to  shock  the  credulity  of  the  reader. 

As  to  the  main  facts  of  the  case — the  character  of  the  Codding- 
ton  family — their  adoption  of  the  young  girl — the  unprovoked  en- 
mity  of  the  Blanchards — their  threats  and  plots — the  catastrophe 
to  which  they  contributed — and  the  unsatisfactory  result  of  the 
effort  to  obtain  justice — these  were  all  communicated  to  me  cir 
cumstantially,  (by  an  intelligent  friend  who  had  resided  near  the 
spot  where  the  occurrences  took  place,)  as  a  sort  of  psychological 
problem  which,  even  in  that  country  it  was  not  easy  to  solve. 
The  same  friend  afterwards  sent  me  a  newspaper  published  in 
the  same  county,  in  which  various  details  were  given,  to  which 
details  was  appended  a  public  protest  of  the  aggrieved  party,  with 
other  matters  touching  the  case — all  which  remained  uncontra- 
dicted  so  far  as  I  have  ever  heard. 

I  should  not  have  occupied  so  much  time  with  these  explan 
atory  remarks,  but  for  objections  which  have  been  made  to  the 
probability  of  my  story.  The  old  man,  though  sketched  from  life, 
is  introduced  here  arbitrarily,  to  supply  what  was  wanting  as  to 
the  origin  of  the  young  girl  who  exhibited  traits  so  remarkable. 
Nothing  of  her  parentage  has  reached  me  ;  but  it  seems  natural 
to  suppose  that  a  soul  which  partook  of  the  passionate  and  poetic 
energy  of  a  Sappho,  must  have  been  moulded  by  no  common  lot. 
One  can  scarcely  imagine  the  descendant  of  a  line  of  sober  far 
mers,  kindling  into  a  love  as  ideal  as  that  of  Petrarch,  and  pour- 
ing  out  her  feelings  in  poetic  measures  like  an  Improvisatrice,  in 
a  mental  climate  too  frigid  to  call  into  life  any  but  irrepressible 
germs  of  genius.  Smothered  fire  there  must  have  been  some 
where,  among  our  Julia's  rough  ancestry.  I  have  supposed  it  to 
descend  to  her  through  the  old  Indian-killer,  from  the  more  ge 
nial  and  impulsive  South. 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.         207 


CHAPTER  I. 

Eyes  which  can  but  ill  define 

Shapes  that  rise  about  and  near, 
Through  the  far  horizon's  line 

Stretch  a  vision  free  and  clear: 
Memories  feeble  to  retrace 

Yesterday's  immediate  flow, 
Find  a  dear  familiar  face 

In  each  hour  of  long  ago. — MILNES. 

IN  wandering  through  the  woods  where  solitude  seems  to  hold 
undivided  reign,  so  that  one  learns  to  fancy  companionable  quali 
ties  in  the  flowers,  and  decided  sympathetic  intelligence  in  the 
bright-eyed  squirrel,  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find  originals  odd 
enough  to  make  the  fortune  of  a  human  menagerie,  such  as  will 
doubtless  form,  at  no  distant  day,  a  new  resource  for  the  curious. 
If  any  of  the  experimental  philosophers  of  the  day  should  under 
take  a  collection  of  this  nature,  I  recommend  the  woods  of  the 
West  as  a  hopeful  field  for  the  search.  Odd  people  are  odder  in 
the  country  than  in  town,  because  there  is  nothing  like  collision 
to  smooth  down  their  salient  points,  and  because  solitude  is  the 
nurse  of  reverie,  which  is  well  known  to  be  the  originator  of  many 
an  erratic  freak.  There  is  a  foster  relationship,  at  least  between 
solitude  and  oddity,  and  nowhere  is  this  more  evident  than  in  the 
free  and  easy  new  country.  A  fair  specimen  used  to  thrive  in  a 
certain  green  wood,  not  a  thousand  miles  from  this  spot ;  a  veteran 
who  bore  in  his  furrowed  front  the  traces  of  many  a  year  of  hard 
ship  and  exposure,  and  whose  eyes  retained  but  little  of  the  twink 
ling  light  which  must  have  distinguished  them  in  early  life,  but 
which  had  become  submerged  in  at  least  a  twilight  darkness, 
which  scarce  allowed  him  to  distinguish  the  light  of  a  candle. 
His  limbs  were  withered,  and  almost  useless ;  his  voice  shrunk  to 
a  piping  treble,  and  his  trembling  hands  but  imperfectly  performed 
their  favourite  office  of  carrying  a  tumbler  to  his  lips.  His 


208  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

alone  escaped  the  general  decay ;  and  in  this  one  organ  were 
concentrated  (as  it  is  with  the  touch  in  cases  of  blindness,)  the 
potency  of  all  the  rest.  If  we  may  trust  his  own  account,  his 
adventures  had  been  only  less  varied  and  wonderful,  than  those 
of  Sinbad  or  Baron  Munchausen.  But  we  used  sometimes  to 
think  distance  may  be  the  source  of  deception,  in  matters  of  time 
as  well  as  of  space,  and  so  made  due  allowance  for  faulty  per 
spective  in  his  reminiscences. 

His  house  was  as  diiiererit  from  all  other  houses,  as  he  himself 
was  from  all  other  men.  It  was  shaped  somewhat  like  a  beehive  ; 
and,  instead  of  ordinary  walls,  the  shingles  continued  in  uninter 
rupted  courses  from  the  peak  to  the  ground.  At  one  side  was  a 
stick  chimney,  and  this  was  finished  on  the  top  by  the  remnant 
of  a  stone  churn ;  whether  put  there  to  perform  the  legitimate 
office  of  a  chimney-pot,  or  merely  as  an  architectural  ornament,  I 
cannot  say.  It  had  an  unique  air,  at  any  rate,  when  one  first 
espied  it  after  miles  of  solitary  riding,  where  no  tree  had  fallen, 
except  those  which  were  removed  in  making  the  road.  A  luxuri 
ant  hop-vine  crept  up  the  shingles  until  it  wound  itself  around 
this  same  broken  churn,  and  then,  seeking  further  support,  the 
long  ends  still  stretched  out  in  every  direction,  so  numerous  and 
so  lithe,  that  every  passing  breeze  made  them  whirl  like  green- 
robed  fairies  dancing  hornpipes  about  the  chimney,  in  preparation 
for  a  descent  upon  the  inhabitants  below. 

At  the  side  opposite  the  chimney,  was  a  sort  of  stair-case, 
scarcely  more  than  a  ladder,  leading  to  the  upper  chamber,  car 
ried  up  outside  through  lack  of  room  in  the  little  cottage  ;  and 
this  airy  flight  was  the  visible  sign  of  a  change  which  took  place 
in  the  old  man's  establishment,  towards  the  latter  part  of  his  life. 
A  grand-daughter,  the  orphan  of  his  only  son,  had  come  to  him 
in  utter  destitution,  and  this  made  it  necessary  to  have  a  second 
apartment  in  the  shingled  hive ;  so  the  stairs  were  built  outside 
as  we  have  said,  and  Julia  Brand  was  installed  in  the  wee  cham 
ber  to  which  it  led.  She  was  a  girl  of  twelve,  perhaps,  at  this 
time,  and  soon  became  all  in  all  to  her  aged  relative.  But  we 
will  put  her  off  for  the  present,  that  we  may  recall  at  more  length 
our  recollections  of  old  Richard  Brand.  The  race  of  rough  old 
to  which  he  belonged,  was  fast  passing  away  ;  and  emi- 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.         209 

gration  and  improvement  are  sweeping  from  the  face  of  the  land, 
every  trace  of  their  existence.  The  spirit  by  which  they  weie 
animated  has  no  fellowship  with  steamboats  and  railroads  ;  their 
pleasures  were  not  increased  but  diminished  by  the  rapid  acces 
sion  of  population,  for  whom  they  had  done  much  to  prepare 
the  way.  The  younger  and  hardier  of  their  number  felt  them 
selves  elbowed,  and  so  pressed  onward  to  the  boundless  prairies 
of  the  far  West ;  the  old  shrunk  from  contact  with  society,  and 
gathered  themselves,  as  if  to  await  the  mighty  hunter  in  charac 
teristic  fashion.  Old  Brand  belonged  to  the  latter  class.  He 
looked  ninety ;  but  much  allowance  must  be  made  for  winter 
storms  and  night-watches,  and  such  irregularities  and  exposure  as 
are  sure  to  keep  an  account  against  man,  and  to  score  their  de 
mands  upon  his  body,  both  within  and  without. 

We  have  said  that  the  house  had  a  wild  and  strange  look,  and 
the  aspect  of  the  tenant  of  the  little  nest  was  that  of  an  old  wizard. 
He  would  sit  by  the  side  of  the  door,  enjoying  the  sunshine,  and 
making  marks  on  the  sand  with  the  long  staff  which  seldom 
quitted  his  feeble  hands,  while  his  favourite  cat  purred  at  his  feet, 
or  perched  herself  on  his  shoulder,  rubbing  herself  against  his 
grey  locks,  unreproved.  Weird  and  sad  was  his  silent  aspect ; 
but  once  set  him  talking,  or  place  in  his  hands  his  battered  violin, 
and  you  would  no  longer  find  silence  tiresome.  One  string  was 
generally  all  that  the  instrument  could  boast ;  but  that  one,  like 
the  tongue  of  the  owner,  performed  more  than  its  share.  It 
could  say, 

Hey,  Betty  Martin,  tip-toe,  tip-toe, 

Hey,  Betly  Martin,  tip-toe  fine : 
Can't  get  a  husband  to  please  her,  please  her, 

Can't  get  a  husband  to  please  her  mind ! 

as  plain  as  any  human  lips  and  teeth  could  make  the  same  taunt 
ing  observation  ;  but  if  you  ventured  to  compare  the  old  magician 
to  Paganini,  "  Humph  !"  he  would  say,  with  a  toss  of  his  little 
grey  head,  "  ninny  I  may  be,  but  pagan  I  a'n't,  any  how ;  for  do 
I  eat  little  babies,  and  drink  nothing  but  water  ?" 

Nobody  ever  ventured  to  give  an  affirmative  answer  to  either 

15 


210  WESTERN   CLEAR[NGS. 

branch  of  this  question  ;  so  the  old  man  triumphed  in  the  refuta 
tion  of  the  slander. 

Directly  in  front  of  the  door  by  which  old  Brand  usually  sat, 
was  a  pit,  four  or  five  feet  deep,  perhaps,  and  two  feet  in  diameter 
at  the  top,  and  still  wider  at  the  bottom,  where  it  was  strewn  with 
broken  bottles  and  jugs.  (Mr.  Brand  had,  by  some  accident, 
good  store  of  these.)  This  pit  was  generally  covered  during  the 
day,  but  for  many  years  the  platfonr  was  at  night  drawn  within 
the  door,  with  all  the  circumspection  that  attended  the  raising  of 
a  draw-bridge  before  a  castle  gate  in  ancient  times. 

"  Is  that  a  wolf-trap  ?"  inquired  an  uninitiated  guest.  An  ex 
plosion  of  laughter  met  this  truly  green  question. 

"  A  wolf-trap  !  O  !  massy  !  what  a  wolf-hunter  you  be  !  You 
bought  that  'ere  fine  broadcloth  coat  out  of  bounty  money,  didn't 
ye  ?  How  I  should  laugh  to  see  ye  where  our  Jake  was  once, 
when  he  war'n't  more  than  twelve  year  old !  You'd  grin  till  a 
wolf  would  be  a  fool  to  ye  !  I  had  a  real  wolf-trap  then,  /  tell 
ye  !  There  had  been  a  wolf  around,  that  was  the  hungriest  crit 
ter  you  ever  heard  tell  on.  Nobody  pretended  to  keep  a  sheep, 
and  as  for  little  pigs,  they  war'n't  a  circumstance.  He'd  eat  a 
litter  in  one  night.  Well  !  I  dug  my  trap  plenty  deep  enough, 
and  all  the  dirt  I  took  out  on't  was  laid  up  o'  one  side,  slantindic- 
ler,  up  hill  like,  so  as  to  make  the  jump  a  pretty  good  one  ;  and 
then  the  other  sides  was  built  up  close  with  logs.  It  was  a  sneezer 
of  a  trap.  So  there  I  baited  and  baited,  and  watched  and  waited  ; 
but  pigs  was  plenty  where  they  was  easier  come  at,  and  no  wolf 
came.  By-and-by  our  old  yellow  mare  died,  and  what  does  I  do 
but  goes  and  whops  th'  old  mare  into  the  trap.  '  There !'  says  I 
to  Jake,  says  I,  'that  would  catch  th'  old  Nick;  let's  see  what 
the  old  wolf  '11  say  to  it.'  So  the  next  night  we  watch'd,  and  it 
war'n't  hardly  midnight,  when  the  wolf  come  along  to  go  to  the 
hog-pen.  He  scented  old  Poll  quick  enough  ;  and  I  tell  ye !  the 
way  he  went  into  the  trap  war'n't  slow.  It  was  jist  as  a  young 
feller  falls  in  love  ;  head  over  heels.  Well !  now  the  question 
was,  how  we  should  kill  the  villain ;  and  while  we  was  a  con- 
sultin'  about  that,  and  one  old  hunter  proposin'  one  thing,  and 
another  another,  our  Jake  says  to  me,  says  he,  *  Father,'  says  he, 
*  I've  got  a  plan  in  my  head  that  I  know'll  do !  I'll  bang  him 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.         211 


over  the  head  with  this  knotty  stick.'  And  before  you  could  say 
Jack  Robinson,  in  that  tarnal  critter  jump'd,  and  went  at  him. 
It  was  a  tough  battle,  /  tell  ye  !  The  wolf  grinned  ;  but  Jake  he 
never  stopped  to  grin,  but  put  it  on  to  him  as  cool  as  a  cowcumber, 
till  he  got  so  he  could  see  his  brains,  and  then  he  was  satisfied. 
'  Now  pull  me  out !'  says  little  Jake,  says  he,  '  And  I  tell  ye  what ! 
if  it  a* n't  daylight,  I  want  my  breakfast !'  And  Jake  was  a  show, 
any  how  !  What  with  his  own  scratches  and  the  spatters  of  the 
wolf's  blood,  he  look'd  as  if  the  Indians  had  scalped  him  all  over." 

"  But  what  is  this  hole  for  ?"  persisted  the  visiter,  who  found 
himself  as  far  from  the  point  as  ever. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  Indian  ?"  said  the  wizard. 

"  No !  oh  yes  ;  I  saw  Black  Hawk  and  his  party,  at  Washing 
ton  " 

"  Black  Hawk  !  ho,  ho,  ho !  and  Tommy  Hawk  too,  I  'spose ! 
Indians  dress'd  off  to  fool  the  big  bugs  up  there  !  But  I  mean 
real  Indians — Indians  at  home,  in  the  woods — devils  that's  as 
thirsty  for  white  men's  blood  as  painters  !*  Why,  when  I  come 
first  into  the  Michigan,  they  were  as  thick  as  huckleberries. 
We  didn't  mind  shooting  'em  anymore  than  if  they'd  had  four  legs. 
That's  a  foolish  law  that  won't  let  a  man  kill  an  Indian !  Some 
people  pretend  to  think  the  niggers  haven't  got  souls,  but  for  my 
part  I  know  they  have;  as  for  Indians,  it's  all  nonsense  !  I  was 
brought  up  right  in  with  the  blacks.  My  father  own'd  a  real 
raft  on  'em,  and  they  was  as  human  as  any  body.  When  my 
father  died,  and  every  thing  he  had  in  the  world  wouldn't  half 
pay  his  debts,  our  old  Momma  Venus  took  mother  home  to  her 
cabin,  and  done  for  her  as  long  as  she  lived.  Not  but  what  we 
boys  helped  her  as  much  as  we  could,  but  we  had  nothing  to  be 
gin  with,  and  never  had  no  larnin'.  I  was  the  oldest,  and  father 
died  when  I  was  twelve  year  old,  and  he  hadn't  begun  to  think 
about  gettin'  a  schoolmaster  on  the  plantation.  I  used  to  be  in 
with  our  niggers,  that  is,  them  that  used  to  be  ours  ;  and  though 
I'd  lick'd  'em  and  kick'd  'em  many  a  time,  they  was  jist  as  good 
to  me  as  if  I'd  been  their  own  colour.  But  1  wanted  to  get  some 
larnin',  so  I  used  to  lie  on  the  floor  of  their  cabins,  with  my  head 
to  the  fire,  and  so  study  a  spelliri'-book  some  Yankees  had  gi'n 
*  Panthers. 


212  WESTERN    CLEANINGS. 

me,  by  the  light  of  the  pine  knots  and  hickory  bark.  The  Yan 
kee  people  was  good  friends  to  me  too,  and  when  I  got  old  enough, 
some  on  'em  sent  me  down  to  New  Orleans  with  a  flat,  loaded 
with  flour  and  bacon. 

"  Now  in  them  days  there  was  no  goin'  up  and  down  the  Missis 
sippi  in  comfort,  upon  'count  of  the  Spaniards.  The  very  first 
village  I  came  to,  they  hailed  me  and  asked  for  my  pass.  I  told 
'ern  the  niggers  carried  passes,  but  that  I  was  a  free-born  Amer 
ican,  and  didn't  need  a  pass  to  go  any  where  upon  airth.  So  I 
took  no  further  notice  of  the  whiskerandoes,  till  jistas  I  turn'd  the 
next  pint,  what  should  I  see  but  a  mud  fort,  and  a  passel  of  sojers 
gettin'  ready  to  fire  into  me.  This  looked  squally,  and  I  come  to. 
They  soon  boarded  me,  and  had  my  boat  tied  to  a  tree  and  my 
hands  behind  rny  back  before  you  could  whistle.  I  told  the  boy 
that  was  with  me  to  stick  by  and  see  that  nothing  happened  to  the 
cargo,  and  off  I  went  to  prison ;  nothing  but  a  log-prison,  but 
strong  as  thunder,  and  only  a  trap-door  in  the  roof.  So  there  I 
was,  in  limbo,  tucked  up  pretty  nice.  They  gi'n  me  nothing  to 
eat  but  stale  corn  bread  and  pork  rinds  ;  not  even  a  pickle  to 
make  it  go  down.  I  think  the  days  was  squeez'd  out  longer,  in 
that  black  hole,  than  ever  they  was  in  Greenland.  But  there's 
an  end  to  most  everything,  and  so  there  was  to  that.  As  good  luck 
would  have  it,  the  whiskerando  governor  came  along  down  the 
river  and  landed  at  the  village,  and  hearin'  of  the  Yankee,  (they 
call'd  me  a  Yankee  'cause  I  was  clear  white,)  hearin'  that  there 
was  a  Yankee  in  the  man-trap,  he  order'd  me  before  him.  There 
he  jabber'd  away,  and  I  jabber'd  as  fast  as  he  did  ;  but  he  was  a 
gentleman,  and  gentlemen  is  like  free-masons,  they  can  under 
stand  each  other  all  over  the  world.  So  the  governor  let  me  go, 
and  then  he  and  the  dons  that  were  with  him,  walk'd  down  with 
me  to  my  craft,  and  gave  me  to  understand  they  wanted  to  buy 
some  o'  my  fixins.  So  I  roll'd  'em  out  a  barrel  of  flour,  and  flung 
up  a  passel  of  bacon,  till  they  made  signs  there  was  enough,  and 
then  the  governor  he  pull'd  out  his  gold-netted  purse  to  pay  me. 
I  laughed  at  him  for  thinkin'  I  would  take  pay  from  one  that  had 
used  me  so  well  ;  and  when  he  laid  the  money  upon  a  box  slily, 
I  tied  it  up  in  an  old  rag  and  chucked  it  ashore  to  him  after  I 
pushed  off;  so  he  sniil'd  and  nodded  to  me,  and  Peleg  and  I  we 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.        213 


took  oif  our  hats  and  gi'n  him  a  rousin'  hurrah,  and  I  thought 
that  was  the  last  I  should  see  on  him.  But  lo  and  behold  !  when 
I  got  to  New  Orleans,  there  was  my  gentleman  got  there  before 
me,  and  remitted  all  government  costs  and  charges,  and  found 
buyers  for  rny  perduce  and  my  craft,  and  like  to  have  bought 
me  too.  But  I  lik'd  the  bush,  so  I  took  my  gun  and  set  off  afoot 
through  the  wilderness,  and  found  my  way  home  again,  with  my 
money  all  safe.  When  I  come  to  settle  with  the  Yankees,  there 
was  a  good  slice  for  me  and  mother,  so  I  come  off  to  buy  a  tract 
in  the  Michigan.  I  come  streakiri'  along  till  I  got  to  the  Huron 
river,  and  undertook  to  swim  that  with  my  clothes  on  and  my 
money  tied  round  my  neck.  The  stream  was  so  high  that  I  come 
pretty  near  givin'  up.  It  was  '  pull  devil,  pull  baker,'  with  me, 
and  I  was  glad  to  ontie  my  money  and  let  it  go.  That  was  before 
these  blessed  banks  eased  a  fellow  of  his  money  so  slick,  and  you 
had  to  carry  hard  cash.  So  mine  went  to  the  bottom,  and  it's 
there  yet  for  what  I  know.  I  went  to  work  choppin'  till  I  got 
enough  to  buy  me  an  eighty  ;  and  I  bought  and  sold  fourteen 
times  before  I  could  get  a  farm  to  suit  me ;  and  like  enough  may 
try  again  before  1  die." 

"  But  you  were  going  to  tell  me  about  this  hole." 
"  Oh,  the  hole  !  yes — that  'ere  hole !  You  see,  when  I  first 
settled,  and  the  Indians  was  as  thick  as  snakes,  so  that  I  used  to 
sleep  with  my  head  in  an  iron  pot  for  fear  they  should  shoot  me 
through  the  logs,  I  dug  that  hole  and  fix'd  it  just  right  for  'em,  in 
case  they  came  prowlin'  about  in  the  night.  1  laid  a  teterin' 
board  over  it,  so  that  if  you  stepped  on  it,  down  you  went ;  and 
there  was  a  stout  string  stretch'd  acrost  it  and  tied  to  the  lock  of 
my  rifle,  and  the  rifle  was  pointed  through  a  hole  in  the  door ;  so 
whoever  fell  into  the  hole  let  off  the  rifle,  and  stood  a  good 
chance  for  a  sugar-plum.  I  sot  it  so  for  years  and  never  caught 
an  Indian,  they're  so  cunning ;  and  after  they'd  all  pretty  much 
left  these  parts,  I  used  to  set  it  from  habit.  But  at  last  I  got 
tired  of  it  and  put  up  my  rifle  at  night,  though  I  still  sot  my 
trap  ;  and  the  very  first  night  after  I  left  off  puttin'  the  rifle 
through  the  hole,  who  should  come  along  but  my  own  brother 
from  old  Kentuck,  that  I  hadn't  seen  for  twenty  year!  He  went 
into  the  hole  about  the  slickest,  but  it  only  tore  his  trowsers  a  lit 
tle  ;  and  wasn't  I  glad  I  hadn't  sot  the  rifle  ?" 


2)4  WESTERN   CLEARINGS 


CHAPTER  II. 

Ragion  ?  tu  m'odii ;  ecco  il  mio  sol  misfutto. 

ALFIERI. 

OLD  Brand's  hatred  of  the  Indians  had  not  always  expended 
itself  in  words.  When  war  in  its  worst  shape  ravaged  the  fron 
tiers,  there  were,  besides  those  regularly  commissioned  and  paid 
to  destroy,  many  who  took  the  opportunity  of  wreaking  personal 
wrongs,  or  gratifying  that  insane  hatred  of  the  very  name  of  In 
dian,  which  appears  to  have  instigated  a  portion  of  the  original 
settlers.  These  were  a  sort  of  land  privateers ; — the  more  mer 
ciless  and  inhuman  that  their  deeds  were  perpetrated  from  the 
worst  and  most  selfish  impulses,  and  without  even  a  pretence  of 
the  sanction  of  law.  We  may  look  in  vain  among  the  horrors  of 
savage  warfare  for  any  act  more  atrocious,  than  some  of  those 
by  which  the  white  man  has  shown  his  red  brother  how  the 
Christian  can  hate. 

The  achievement  of  which  the  old  trapper  boasted  loudest  was 
the  burning  of  an  Indian  wigwam.  He  would  recount,  with  cir 
cumstantial  minuteness,  every  item  of  his  preparation  for  the 
murderous  deed  ;  the  stratagem  by  which  he  approached  the 
place  unobserved  :  and  the  pleasure  that  he  felt  when  he  saw  the 
flumes  curling  round  the  dry  bark  roof  on  four  sides  at  once.  He 
laughed  when  he  told  how  the  father  of  the  family  burst  through 
the  pile  of  burning  brush  which  barricaded  the  only  door,  and 
how  he  was  shot  down  before  he  had  time  to  recognise  his  cruel 
enemy.  Then  the  agonized  shrieks  of  the  women  and  children ; 
their  fleeing  half  naked  and  half  roasted  into  the  forest;  and  the 
mother  and  babe  found  dead  in  the  path  the  next  day, — these 
were  never-failing  topics  ;  and,  strange  to  say,  old  Brand,  though 
not  born  a  fiend,  could  exult  in  the  recollection  of  such  exaggera 
ted  wickedness.  War,  the  concentrated  essence  of  cruelty  and 
injustice,  gave  the  opportunity,  and  some  wrong,  real  or  pretend- 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.         215 

ed,  committed  by  the  red  man,  the  excuse  ;  and  the  outrage  was 
only  remembered  as  one  of  the  incidental  horrors  of  a  border 
contest. 

As  Richard  Brand  became  more  infirm,  his  garrulity  seemed 
rather  to  increase,  and  his  grand-daughter,  who  was  his  constant 
attendant,  used  to  sit  for  hours  drinking  in  his  wild  stories,  and 
imbibing  unconsciously,  something  of  the  daring  and  reckless 
spirit  of  the  reciter.  She  grew  up  to  be  a  tall,  majestic-looking 
girl,  with  the  eye  of  Sappho  herself;  proud  and  high-spirited, 
impatient  of  control,  and  peculiarly  jealous  of  any  assumption  of 
superiority  in  others  \  yet  capable  of  attachment  of  the  most  ar 
dent  and  generous  kind  to  those  from  whom  she  experienced  kind 
ness  and  consideration.  With  these  qualities  she  became  an  ob 
ject  of  a  good  deal  of  interest  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  none  the 
less  that  her  grandfather  was  known  to  have  saved  property  enough 
to  be  accounted  rich  where  all  are  nearly  alike  poor. 

Julia  Brand  had  just  completed  her  fourteenth  year  when  her 
aged  relative  failed  suddenly  j  as  people  who  have  led  rough 
lives  are  apt  to  do  ;  and  his  mind  and  body  became  so  much  en 
feebled  that  it  was  thought  advisable  to  remove  him  to  the  vicin 
ity  of  more  competent  aid  in  case  of  illness,  as  well  as  to  more 
comfortable  shelter  than  the  old  shingled  hive  could  now  afford. 
More  than  one  offer  was  made  by  the  neighbours,  and  the  old 
man,  though  seeming  at  first  scarcely  to  understand  or  accede  to 
the  plan,  yet  showed  a  gleam  of  his  former  acuteness  by  making 
choice  voluntarily  of  Allen  Coddington's  house  as  his  future  home. 

This  Coddington  was  a  man  whose  early  advantages  had  been 
such  as  to  place  him  far  above  the  ordinary  class  of  settlers  in 
point  of  intelligence  and  ability.  He  was  an  industrious  and 
thriving  farmer,  whose  education,  begun  at  one  of  the  best  New 
England  academies,  had  been  furthered  by  a  good  deal  of  solid 
reading,  and  made  effective  by  a  habit  of  observation  without 
which  reading  can  be  of  but  little  practical  utility.  He  stood 
decidedly  in  the  first  rank  among  the  citizens  of  his  town  and 
county.  He  was  among  the  earlier  adventurers  in  that  region, 
and,  having  had  the  wisdom  or  the  forethought,  during  the  time 
of  extravagant  prices,  when  producers  were  few  and  consumers 
many,  to  bestow  his  whole  attention  on  raising  food  for  the  gold- 


216  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

hunters,  who  forgot  to  plough  or  to  plant,  and  yet  must  eat,  he 
had  turned  the  speculating  mania  to  good  account,  and  become 
comparatively  wealthy.  His  house  was  ample  in  size,  and  well 
provided  with  ordinary  accommodations,  and  his  farm  presented 
the  somewhat  rare  spectacle  (in  new  country  experience,)  of  i 
complete  supply  of  every  thing  requisite  for  carrying  on  businesx 
to  the  best  advantage. 

Whether  Allen  Coddington  was  naturally  of  a  self-satisfied  am 
exclusive  temper,  or  whether  he  had  become  somewhat  over 
bearing  through  success  and  prosperiiy,  or  whether  his  good  for- 
tune,  and  that  alone,  had  had  the  effect  of  rendering  him  an  object 
of  jealousy  and  ill-will, — he  was  certainly  no  favourite  in  his  neigh 
bourhood,  lie  had  a  certain  influence,  but  it  was  that  which 
arises  from  a  sense  of  power,  and  not  from  a  feeling  of  confidence 
and  attachment.  People  found  his  advice  valuable,  but  they 
complained  that  his  manner  was  cold  and  unsympathizing  ;  and 
they  remembered  the  offence  long  after  the  benefit  was  forgotten. 
Mr.  Coddington's  family  were  still  less  liked  than  himself,  in  con 
sequence  of  their  retired  habits,  which  were  supposed  to  argue  a 
desire  to  keep  themselves  aloof  from  the  society  about  them. 

To  one  man  in  particular  the  whole  house  of  Coddington  was 
an  object  of  the  bitterest  hatred  and  envy.  This  man  was  their 
nearest  neighbour ;  a  person  of  violent  passions,  and  an  ambitious 
and  designing  mind,  capable  of  almost  any  extreme  of  malignity, 
when  his  pride  was  hurt,  or  his  favourite  objects  thwarted.  Blan- 
chard  was  not  habitually  an  ill-tempered  man.  He  had  often 
proved  himself  capable  of  great  kindness  towards  those  whom  he 
liked;  Lut  he  belonged  to  a  class  emphatically  termed  good  ha 
ters — a  dreadful  anomaly  in  this  erring  world,  where  every  man 
stands  so  much  in  need  of  the  forbearance  and  kindness  of  his 
fellow  man.  Whoever  had  the  misfortune  to  excite  his  vindictive 
feelings  was  sure  of  a  life-long  and  uncompromising  enmity;  and 
though  prudence  might  restrain  him  from  overt  acts,  yet  he  was 
not  above  many  mean  arts  and  secret  efforts  to  lower  those 
against  whom  he  had  conceived  any  dislike. 

To  such  a  man  as  Blanchard  the  peaceful  and  softening  coun 
sels  of  an  amiable  and  judicious  wife  would  have  been  invalua 
ble.  Many  a  ruthless  and  violent  character  is  keot  within 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.         217 


bounds  by  a  gentle  influence,  which  is  not  the  less  powerful  for 
being  exerted  in  a  manner  unperceived  by  all  but  the  person  most 
interested  ;  perhaps  unacknowledged  even  by  him.  Blessed,  in 
deed,  are  such  peace-makers,  and  all  who  belong  to  them  !  But 
Mrs.  Blanchard  was  a  spirit  of  another  tone.  Wholly  uneduca 
ted,  both  in  mind  and  heart;  tormented  with  a  vague  and  vulgar 
ambition  to  be  first,  without  reference  to  means  or  ends ;  and  es 
pecially  jealous  of  the  pretence  to  superior  delicacy  and  refine 
ment,  which  she  conceived  to  be  implied  in  the  quiet  and  secluded 
habits  of  Mrs.  Coddington  and  her  children — this  woman's  soul 
was  consumed  with  bitterness ;  and  her  ingenuity  was  constantly 
exercised  to  discover  some  means  of  pulling  down  what  she  called 
the  pride  of  her  neighbours ; — a  term  with  which  we  sometimes 
deceive  ourselves,  when  in  fact  we  mean  only  their  superiority. 

As  was  the  accusation  of  witchcraft  in  olden  times — a  charge- 
on  which  neither  evidence,  judge  nor  jury,  was  necessary  to  con 
demn  the  unfortunate  suspected, — so  with  us  of  the  West  is  the 
suspicion  of  pride — an  undefined  and  undefinable  crime,  descri 
bed  alike  by  no  two  accusers,  yet  held  unpardonable  by  all. 
Once  establish  the  impression  that  a  man  is  guilty  of  this  high 
offence  against  society,  and  you  have  succeeded  in  ruining  his 
reputation  as  a  good  neighbour.  Nobody  will  ask  you  for  proof; 
accusation  is  proof.  This  is  one  of  the  cases  where  one  has  no 
right  to  be  suspected.  The  cry  of  "  Mad  dog  !"  is  not  more 
surely  destructive. 

This  powerful  engine  was  put  in  operation  by  the  Blanchard 
family,  into  every  member  of  which  the  parental  hatred  of  the 
Coddingtons  had  been  instilled.  They  made  incessant  complaints 
of  the  indignities  which  they  suffered  from  the  pride  of  people 
whose  true  offence  consisted  in  letting  them  alone,  until  the  whole 
neighbourhood  had  learned  from  them  to  look  upon  the  Codding 
tons  as  covert  enemies. 

When  Richard  Brand  made  choice  of  the  great  house  as  an 
asylum  for  himself  and  Julia,  he  unconsciously  gave  yet  another 
tinge  of  bitterness  to  the  hatred  of  the  Blanchards.  They  had 
been  among  the  most  urgent  of  the  inviters,  and  they  felt  the 
preference  given  to  their  detested  neighbour  as  a  new  insult  to 
their  own  pretensions.  We  have  said  that  old  Brand  had  shown 


218  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

a  glimmering  of  his  ancient  sagacity  in  the  decision.  The  es 
tablishment  to  which  he  was  removed  was  one  of  extreme  regu 
larity,  industry  and  order ;  the  Blanchards  were  known  to  be 
careless,  wild,  passionate,  and  rather  thriftless  people  ;  whose  bu 
siness  was  done  by  violent  efforts  at  intervals,  instead  of  habitual 
application  and  method.  Their  children  were  ill-governed,  and 
their  eldest  son  bore  a  character  which  was  by  no  means  to  be 
coveted,  although  he  maintained  an  exterior  of  decency,  and 
even  affected  with  some  success  the  manners  of  a  squire  of 
dames. 

Martha  Coddington  was  a  sweet,  gentle  girl ;  lovely  in  appear 
ance  and  manners,  and  in  all  respects  a  most  desirable  compan 
ion  for  Julia,  whose  education  had  not  been  such  as  was  calcu 
lated  to  endow  her  with  all  the  feminine  graces,  although  she  was 
far  from  being  deficient  in  the  stronger  and  more  active  qualities 
which  are  no  less  valuable  if  something  less  attractive.  Martha 
was  in  very  feeble  health,  and  confined  almost  entirely  to  seden 
tary  occupations ;  and  she  had  thus  enjoyed  opportunities  for 
mental  cultivation  which  would  scarcely  have  fallen  to  her  rustic 
lot  if  she  had  been  blest  with  full  health  and  strength.  It  was 
partly  with  a  view  to  constant  companionship  for  this  beloved 
daughter,  that  Mr.  Coddington  had  been  induced  to  offer  a  home 
to  Richard  Brand.  The  old  man  himself  was  becoming  almost 
a  nonentity,  and  Julia  had  that  indescribable  something  about  her 
which  attracts  the  attention  and  awakens  interest  without  our 
being  able  to  define  satisfactorily  the  source  of  the  fascination. 
Her  manners  were  singularly  simple,  child-like  and  trustful  : 
while  her  eye  had  a  power  and  her  step  a  firmness  which  beto 
kened  her  ability  to  judge  for  herself,  and  to  read  the  thoughts 
of  others.  She  was  as  yet  almost  totally  undeveloped  j  but  it 
was  impossible  not  to  perceive  at  a  glance  that  there  was  abund 
ance  of  material,  either  for  good  or  evil,  as  after  circumstances 
might  sway  the  balance  of  her  destiny. 

Once  established  in  Mr.  Coddington's  family,  Julia  enjoyed  all 
the  privileges  of  a  daughter  of  the  house,  and  shared  with  Mar 
tha,  and  one  or  two  younger  children,  the  occasional  instruction 
of  the  parents.  Her  quickness  of  apprehension  was  remarkable; 
and  the  activity  of  her  habits  and  the  cheerfulness  of  her  temper 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.         219 

made  her  a  valuable  assistant  to  Mrs.  Coddington  in  the  various 
departments  of  householdry  which  would  have  fallen  to  Martha's 
share  if  she  had  been  stout  like  the  rest.  So  that  the  arrange 
ment  was  one  of  mutual  advantage,  and  the  evening  of  Richard 
Brand's  life  bid  fair  to  be  as  calm  as  its  morning  had  been  bois 
terous. 

The  Blanchards  made  many  attempts  at  something  like  inti 
macy  with  Julia,  but  these  were  quietly  discouraged  by  her  pro 
tectors,  probably  from  a  sincere  belief  that  such  association  would 
be  unprofitable  for  her.  They  were  at  this  time  not  at  all  aware 
of  the  deep  enmity  of  the  Blanchards,  although  they  had  not  been 
blind  to  various  indications  of  ill-will.  So,  in  silence  and  secre 
cy  grew  this  baleful  hatred  !  as  the  deadly  nightshade  becomes 
more  intensely  poisonous  when  sheltered  from  the  sun-light  and 
the  breeze.  Imagination  is  the  most  potent  auxiliary  of  the  pas 
sions.  Nothing  so  effectually  moderates  personal  dislike  as  per 
sonal  intercourse.  Any  circumstance  which  had  thrown  these 
neighbouring  families  into  contact,  in  such  a  way  as  to  bring  into 
action  the  good  qualities  of  either,  would  have  done  away  with 
much  of  their  mutual  aversion.  What  a  world  of  misery  would 
thus  have  been  spared  to  both  ! 


220  WESTERN  CLEARINGS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  undistingnish'd  seeds  of  good  and  ill 

Heav'n  in  its  bosom  from  our  knowledge  hides  ; 

And  draws  them  in  contempt  of  human  skill, 
Which  oft  for  friends  mistaken  foes  provides. 

****** 

So  the  false  spider,  when  her  nets  are  spread, 

Derp  ambushed  in  her  silent  den  does  lie  ; 
And  feels  afar  the  trembling  of  the  thread 

Whose  filmy  cord  should  bind  the  struggling  fly. 

DRYDEN. 

NEARLY  three  years  had  Julia  Brand  passed  in  Mr.  Codding- 
ton's  family  ;  years,  for  the  most  part,  of  quiet  happiness  and 
continual  improvement.  No  care  had  been  omitted  by  her  kind 
friends  to  make  her  all  that  a  woman  should  be ;  and  Julia  had 
imbibed  instruction  eagerly,  and  repaid  all  their  efforts  by  her  at 
tachment  and  her  increasing  usefulness.  To  Martha  she  was  as 
a  dear  younger  sister,  whose  buoyant  spirits  had  always  the 
power  to  cheer,  and  whose  kind  alacrity  could  make  even  the 
disadvantages  of  ill-health  appear  less  formidable.  Yet  the  un 
tamed  quality  of  her  earlier  nature  broke  forth  sometimes  in 
starts  of  strange  fierceness,  which  struck  the  gentle  invalid  with 
dismay.  These  flashes  of  passion  almost  always  originated  in 
some  unpalatable  advice,  or  some  attempt  at  judicious  control  on 
the  part  of  Mrs.  Coddington,  who  had  learned  to  feel  a  mother's 
love  for  the  beautiful  orphan  ;  and,  although  such  storms  would 
end  in  showers  of  tears  and  promises  of  better  self-government, 
they  were  a  source  of  much  grief  to  both  Martha  and  her  mother, 
who  felt  the  dangers  of  this  impetuosity  when  they  reflected  that 
no  one  but  the  imbecile  grandfather  possessed  a  natural  right  to 
direct  the  course  of  Julia's  actions. 

These,  however,  were  but  transient  clouds.  Peace  and  love 
reigned  in  this  well-ordered  household,  and  the  old  man,  now  re- 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.         221 


duced  to  absolute  second  infancy,  received  from  the  family  all 
the  attention  that  would  have  been  due  from  his  own  children. 
Every  fine  morning  saw  his  easy  chair  wheeled  into  the  orchard, 
and  there,  in  the  pleasant  shade,  and  with  Julia  at  his  side,  he 
would  hum  fragments  of  his  ancient  ditties,  or  touch,  with  aimless 
finger,  the  old  violin  held  up  for  him  by  Robert  Coddington,  a  boy 
about  Julia's  age,  who  shared  with  her  much  of  the  care  of  her 
helpless  charge.  The  old  man's  lift;  was  certainly  prolonged  by 
the  circumstances  of  ease  and  comfort  which  attended  its  setting; 
to  what  good  end,  we  might  perhaps  be  disposed  to  inquire,  were 
it  not  that  he  was,  in  his  present  condition  at  least,  so  like  a  hu 
man  grasshopper,  that  we  may  suppose  he  was  allowed  existence 
on  the  same  terms.  His  dependent  state  afforded  certainly  most 
ample  opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  kindly  feeling  in  those 
about  him ;  and  we  must  believe  this  to  be  no  unimportant  object, 
since  one  part  of  the  lesson  of  life  is  to  be  learned  only  by  such 
means. 

Julia,  loved  and  cherished,  full  of  ruddy  health,  and  exalted 
by  intellectual  culture,  opened  gradually  into  splendid  woman 
hood  ;  her  eye  deepened  in  expression  by  a  sense  of  happiness, 
and  her  movements  rendered  graceful  by  continual  and  willing 
activity.  Even  in  the  country,  where  such  beauty  and  grace  as 
hers  are  but  little  appreciated,  she  could  not  pass  unnoticed. 
Though  necessarily  much  secluded,  both  by  the  requisite  attend 
ance  on  her  aged  relative,  and  by  the  habits  of  the  family  of 
which  she  formed  a  part,  her  charms  were  a  frequent  theme  with 
the  young  people  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  it  was  sometimes 
said,  half  jest,  half  earnest,  that  the  Coddingtons  kept  her  shut  up, 
lest  she  should  "  take  the  shine  off  their  sickly  daughter."  The 
Blanchards  in  particular,  took  unwearied  pains  to  have  it  under 
stood  that  poor  Julia  was  a  mere  drudge,  and  that  all  their  own 
efforts  to  lighten  the  weary  hours  of  their  fair  neighbour  were  re 
pelled  by  her  tyrants,  who  evidently  feared  that  Julia  might  be 
induced  to  throw  off  their  yoke  if  she  should  have  an  opportunity 
of  contrasting  her  condition  with  that  of  other  young  persons. 
There  seems  to  be  in  the  forming  stages  of  society,  at  least  in  this 
Western  country,  a  burning,  restless  desire  to  subject  all  habits 
and  manners  to  one  Procrustean  rule.  Whoever  ventures  to  dif- 


222  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


fer  essentially  from  the  mass,  is  sure  to  become  the  object  of  un 
kind  feeling,  even  without  supposing  any  bitter  personal  ani 
mosity,  such  as  existed  in  the  case  before  us.  The  retired  and 
exclusive  habits  of  the  Coddington  family  had  centered  upon  them 
almost  all  the  ill-will  of  the  neighbourhood. 

As  a  proof  of  this  we  may  mention,  that  when  a  large  barn  of 
Mr.  Coddington's,  filled  to  the  very  roof  with  the  product  of  an 
abundant  harvest,  chanced  to  be  struck  by  lightning  and  utterly 
consumed,  instead  of  the  general  sympathy  which  such  occur 
rences  usually  excite  in  the  country,  scarce  an  expression  of  re 
gret  was  heard.  Mr.  Blanchard,  who  was  not  averse  to  "  ma 
king  capital"  of  his  neighbour's  misfortunes,  declared  his  solemn 
belief  that  this  loss  was  a  judgment  upon  the  Coddingtons,  and 
one  which  their  pride  richly  deserved.  He  even  went  so  far,  in 
private,  before  his  own  family,  as  to  wish  it  had  been  the  house 
instead  of  only  one  of  the  barns.  The  tone  of  feeling  cultivated 
in  that  house  may  be  judged  by  this  specimen.  Evil  was  the 
seed,  and  bitter  the  fruit  it  was  destined  to  produce  ! 

Mr.  Coddington  felt  the  loss  as  any  farmer  must ;  and  he 
would  still  more  keenly  have  felt  the  unkind  sentiment  of  the 
neighbourhood  if  he  had  become  aware  of  it.  But  he  was  on  the 
point  of  revisiting  his  native  State  with  his  family  ;  and  in  the 
bustle  of  preparation,  and  the  anxiety  that  attended  Martha's 
declining  health,  which  formed  the  main  inducement  to  the  jour 
ney,  the  venomous. whispers  were  unheard.  He  left  home  sup 
posing  himself  at  peace  with  all  the  world,  always  excepting  his 
nearest  neighbour,  whose  enmity  had  evinced  itself  in  too  many 
ways  to  pass  unregarded. 

Julia  and  her  grandfather  were  left  in  possession  of  the  house, 
with  the-  domestics  necessary  to  carry  on  the  affairs  of  the  farm ; 
and  she  prepared  for  a  close  attention  to  the  household  cares,  and 
a  regular  course  of  intellectual  improvement,  which  should  make 
the  long  interval  of  comparative  solitude  not  only  profitable,  but 
pleasant.  Mrs.  Coddington  had  learned  such  confidence  in  Julia, 
that  she  scarcely  thought  it  necessary  to  caution  her  as  to  her 
conduct  during  her  absence.  Far  less  did  she  exact  a  promise 
as  to  the  long-settled  point  of  free  intercourse  with  the  Blanchard 
family.  She  gave  only  the  general  advice  which  a  mother's 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.        223 

heart  suggests  on  such  occasions,  and  bade  farewell  to  her  bloom- 
ing  pupil  in  full  trust  that  all  would  go  on  as  usual  under  Julia's 
well-trained  eye. 

But  the  Blanchard  family,  one  and  all,  had  settled  matters  far 
otherwise.  The  very  first  time  that  old  Brand's  chair  was  wheel 
ed  into  the  orchard  after  the  departure  of  the  Coddingtons,  a 
bunch  of  beautiful  flowers  lay  on  the  rude  seat  beneath  the  tree 
where  Julia  usually  took  her  station.  When  she  snatched  it  up 
with  delight  and  wonder,  she  was  still  more  surprised  to  find  un 
der  it  a  small  volume  of  poetry.  Julia  loved  flowers  dearly,  but 
poetry  was  her  passion  ;  and  she  not  only  read  it  with  delight, 
but  had  herself  made  some  not  ungraceful  attempts  at  verse,  which 
had  elicited  warm  commendations  from  her  kind  protectors.  Here 
was  a  new  author,  and  one  whose  style  gave  the  most  fascinating 
dress  to  passionate  and  rather  exaggerated  sentiment.  Julia's  at 
tention  was  enchained  at  once.  When  she  first  opened  the  vol 
ume  her  only  feeling  was  a  curious  desire  to  know  whence  it 
had  come  ;  but  when  she  had  read  a  page  she  thought  no  more 
of  this.  The  poetry  to  which  alone  she  had  been  accustomed, 
was  not  only  of  a  high-tone.d  and  severe  morality,  but  of  an  ab 
stract  or  didactic  cast ;  calculated  to  quicken  her  perceptions  of 
right,  rather  than  to  call  forth  her  latent  enthusiasm  of  character. 
Cowper  and  Milton,  and  Young  and  Pollok  had  fed  her  young 
thoughts.  But  here  was  a  new  world  opened  to  her  ;  and  it  was 
not  a  safe  world  for  the  ardent  and  unschooled  child  of  genius, 
who  found  in  the  glowing  picturings  of  a  spirit  like  her  own,  a 
power  which  at  once  took  prisoner  her  understanding,  aroused 
her  sensibilities,  and  lulled  that  cautious  and  even  timid  discrim 
ination,  with  which  it  had  been  the  object  of  her  friends  to  inspire 
her.  She  finished  the  reading  at  a  sitting,  and  as  she  returned  to 
the  house  with  her  grandfather,  the  excitement  of  her  imagination 
was  such  that  the  whole  face  of  nature  seemed  changed.  A  new 
set  of  emotions  had  been  called  into  play,  and  the  effect  was  pro 
portioned  to  the  wild  energy  of  her  character.  Poor  Julia  !  she 
had  tasted  the  forbidden  fruit. 

In  the  afternoon  she  repeated  the  pleasure  ;  and  it  was  only 
when  she  laid  the  volume  under  her  pillow  before  she  retired  for 
the  night,  that  the  question  as  to  the  appearance  of  the  book  re- 


224  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


curred  to  her.  It  surely  could  not  have  been  any  of  the  Blan- 
chards,  she  thought ;  yet  who  else  had  access  to  the  orchard, 
which  divided  the  two  domains  ?  The  next  day  solved  the  doubt. 

Julia  was  sitting  by  the  side  of  her  charge,  holding  with  one 
hand  the  old  violin,  and  clasping  in  the  other  the  source  of  many 
a  fair  dream,  in  the  shape  of  the  magic  volume,  when  a  step 
broke  the  golden  meshes  of  her  reverie.  She  looked  up,  and 
young  Blanchard  stood  before  her.  She  started  and  blushed,  she 
knew  not  why,  for  she  had  seen  the  young  man  a  thousand  times 
with  no  other  emotion  than  a  vague  feeling  of  dislike. 

"  Have  you  been  pleased  with  the  book  my  sisters  took  the  lib- 
erty  of  sending  you,  Miss  Brand  ?"  he  said  ;  "  they  wished  me  to 
offer  you  another,  knowing  you  were  fond  of  reading." 

Julia  expressed  her  pleasure  eagerly,  and  received  the  new 
volume  with  a  thrill  of  delight ;  accompanied,  however,  with  some 
misgiving  as  to  the  propriety  of  obtaining  it  just  in  that  way. 

Blanchard.  encouraged  by  her  manner,  proceeded  to  say  that 
his  sisters  would  have  brought  the  books  themselves,  if  they  had 
supposed  a  visit  would  be  agreeable.  Having  accepted  the  civility 
in  one  shape,  Julia  felt  that  she  could  not  decline  it  in  another, 
and  the  invitation  was  given,  and  the  visit  made. 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN   SEEDS.        225 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Virtue,  and  virtue's  rest, 

How  have  they  perish'd !     Through  my  onward  course 
Repentance  dogs  my  footsteps !  black  Remorse 

Is  my  familiar  guest ! 
******* 

Indelibly,  within, 

All  I  have  lost  is  written  ;  and  the  theme 
Which  Silence  whispers  to  my  thought  and  dream 

Is  sorrow  still — and  sin. 

PRAED. 

THE  accomplishment  of  the  first  visit  by  the  Blanchards  was 
only  the  first  step  of  a  regular  plan  of  attack.  Each  successive 
day  witnessed  successive  advances  ;  and  the  bewildering  influence 
of  poetry,  music,  and  yet  sweeter  flattery,  made  rapid  inroads 
upon  Julia's  prudence.  Still  she  declined  all  invitations  to  visit 
at  Mr.  Blanchard's,  knowing  how  disagreeable  such  a  step  would 
oe  to  her  absent  friends ;  and  the  young  man  and  his  sisters  found 
they  had  reached  the  limit  of  their  power  over  her,  before  they 
had  ventured  upon  any  direct  effort  to  alienate  her  from  her  pro 
tectors. 

Whether  they  would  have  relinquished  the  attempt  in  despair 
we  cannot  tell,  for  the  depths  of  malice  have  never  yet  been 
sounded  ;  but  a  new  and  potent  auxiliary  now  appeared,  who  all 
unconsciously  favoured  their  plans  by  attracting  Julia's  attention 
in  a  remarkable  degree.  This  was  a  young  clergyman — a  ne 
phew  of  Mrs.  Blanchard's — who  had  injured  his  health  by  study, 
and  had  come  to  the  country  to  recruit.  He  was  a  tall,  well-look 
ing  young  man,  with  no  very  particular  attractions,  except  a  pale 
face,  dark,  melancholy  eyes,  and  a  manner  which  betokened  very 
little  interest  in  anything  about  him.  He  spent  his  time  princi 
pally  in  reading ;  but  he  played  the  flute  very  well,  and  was  in 
vited  by  the  young  Blanchards  to  join  them  in  their  visits  to  their 
pretty  neighbour  in  the  orchard. 

16 


WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


This  young  clergyman,  who  had  seen  something  of  society,  was 
not  unobservant  of  Julia's  beauty  and  talent;  and  although  he 
does  not  appear  to  have  had  the  slightest  wish  to  interest  her  par 
ticularly,  the  silent  flattery  of  his  manner, — preferring  her  upon 
all  occasions, — joined  with  his  graceful  person  and  delicate  health, 
proved  more  dangerous  to  Julia  than  the  direct  efforts  of  his 
coarser  relations.  In  short,  he  proved  irresistible  to  Julia's  newly 
excited  imagination,  and  after  that  time  the  Blanchards  found  vic 
tory  easy.  Before  many  days  Julia  suffered  herself  to  be  led  a 
willing  visiter  to  the  forbidden  doors,  conscious  all  the  while  that 
this  was  almost  equivalent  to  a  renunciation  of  her  long-tried  and 
still  loved  friends. 

The  main  point  being  thus  accomplished,  the  rest  followed  a» 
of  course.  We  are  not  able  to  trace  step  by  step  the  process  by 
which  the  Blanchards  sought  to  root  out  from  Julia's  heart  the 
love  and  reverence  with  which  she  regarded  Mr.  Coddington  and 
his  family  ;  but  sadly  true  it  is  that  they  succeeded  in  convinc 
ing  her  that  far  from  having  been  benefited  by  their  care,  she  had 
been  secluded  from  all  natural  and  proper  enjoyments,  and  per 
suaded  to  become  a  family-drudge,  under  the  specious  veil  of  a 
desire  for  her  improvement.  A  thousand  reminiscences  were 
called  up  by  these  designing  people  in  order  to  find  materials  for 
mischief.  Long-forgotten  occurrences  were  cited  and  explained 
in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it  appear  that  the  Coddingtons  had  for 
their  own  purposes  deprived  Julia  of  the  acquaintance  and  sym 
pathy  of  the  neighbourhood.  The  seclusion  in  which  she  had 
grown  up  was  represented  as  the  fruit  of  a  sordid  desire  to  get  as 
much  household  duty  out  of  her  as  possible,  while  at  the  same 
time  her  beauty  and  talents  were  prevented  from  appearing  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  sickly  Martha.  These  things  cunningly  in 
sinuated  were  like  "juice  of  cursed  hebenon"  in  Julia's  ears.  In 
her  days  of  calm  and  healthful  feeling  she  would  have  scorned 
such  vile  constructions ;  but  under  such  influences  as  we  have 
described,  and  especially  wrapt  in  the  bewildering  spell  of  a  pas 
sion  as  violent  as  it  was  sudden,  she  was  a  transformed  creature. 
Her  virtue  would  have  stood  the  test  if  her  judgment  had  re 
mained  clear :  but  the  opium-eater  is  not  more  completely  the 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.        227 

victim  of  delusive  impressions  than  such  a  character  as  hers  when 
it  is  once  abandoned  to  the  power  of  love. 

And  this  love — it  carried  shame  in  its  very  life,  for  was  it  not 
unsought  ?  Had  its  object  by  word  or  even  look  evinced  a  pref 
erence  for  Julia  ?  Burning  blushes  would  have  answered  if  we 
could  have  asked  such  questions  of  Julia  herself.  Indeed,  this 
Mr.  Milgrove  was  a  young  man  of  reserved  and  rather  self-en 
closed  habits,  who,  feeling  himself  quite  superior  to  the  people 
among  whom  he  found  it  convenient  to  remain  for  the  time,  had 
given  himself  very  little  concern  as  to  the  impression  he  was 
making.  Thus  was  unlimited  scope  given  to  Julia's  unpractised 
imagination.  She  idolized  an  idea.  If  the  object  who  chanced 
to  stand  for  an  embodiment  of  her  dreams  had  made  love  like  a 
mere  mortal,  her  naturally  keen  perception  of  character  would 
have  been  awakened,  and  she  would  have  become  aware  of  a  cold 
indifference  of  temperament  in  Milgrove,  with  which  her  own 
could  never  harmonize,  and  which  would  consequently  have  dis 
gusted  her.  But  such  passion  as  hers  does  most  truly  "  make  the 
meat  it  feeds  on,"  and  in  the  exercise  of  this  power  its  growth  is 
portentous,  and  all  independent  of  the  real  value  of  its  material. 
It  soon  filled  the  heart  of  the  unfortunate  girl  to  the  exclusion  of 
all  better  sentiments. 

Time  flew  by,  until  nearly  two  months  had  endowed  Julia's  de 
lirium  with  the  force  of  habit.  Frequent  letters  from  her  absent 
friends  had  brought  intervals  of  self- recollection  and  self-reproach  ; 
but  the  intoxication  was  too  delicious ;  and  with  a  sigh  over  the 
conscious  disingenuousness,  she  wrote  again  and  again  without 
once  mentioning  her  intimacy  with  the  Blanchards  or  the  presence 
of  their  relative.  It  is  true,  she  tried  to  say  to  herself,  that  Mrs. 
Coddington  had  no  right  to  control  her  movements  ;  but  hers  was 
not  a  heart  to  satisfy  itself  with  such  fallacies.  She  felt  deeply 
guilty,  and  she  deliberately  endured  the  dreadful  load,  for  the 
sake  of  the  dreams  which  attended  it.  Her  fear  now  was  the 
speedy  return  of  her  best  friends.  That  must,  as  she  well  knew, 
put  a  stop  at  once  to  all  intercourse  with  those  malevolent  neigh 
bours,  and  deprive  her  of  the  sight  of  one  to  whom  she  had  devoted 
her  whole  soul,  unsought  and  unappreciated. 

At  length  the  period  arrived  when  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Codding. 


WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


ton  announced  that  the  family  were  about  to  return,  travelling 
very  slowly  on  account  of  Martha's  sinking  state,  now  more  alarm 
ing  than  ever  before.  Julia's  emotions  on  receiving  this  intelli 
gence  were  of  the  most  violent  kind.  She  sat  with  the  letter  be 
fore  her — her  eyes  fixed  on  the  account  given  by  the  afflicted 
mother  of  the  state  of  her  dying  child  ;  and  as  she  gazed,  her 
mind  may  truly  be  said  to  have  "suffered  the  nature  of  an  insur 
rection."  All  her  better  self  was  roused  by  the  thought  of  Mar 
tha's  rapid  decay,  and  a  flood  of  tears  attested  the  reality  and  the 
tenderness  of  her  affection  for  this  excellent  friend;  yet,  on  the 
other  side,  the  fascinations  of  the  past  two  months  were  present  in 
all  their  power  ;  and  as  she  reflected  that  these  must  now  be  re 
nounced,  she  groaned  aloud,  and  grasped  her  throbbing  temples 
with  both  hands,  as  if  to  preserve  them  during  the  agony  of  the 
struggle.  In  this  condition  she  was  found  by  one  of  the  daugh 
ters  of  Mr.  Blanchard,  who  had,  by  various  arts,  succeeded  in 
gaining  her  confidence  completely. 

These  young  women,  who  were  in  every  way  inferior  to  Julia, 
derived  all  their  interest  in  her  eyes  from  their  connection  with 
the  object  of  her  mad  attachment.  She  saw  them  as  she  saw  him 
— through  a  medium  of  utter  delusion.  The  elder,  more  particu 
larly,  was  a  designing  and  malicious  girl,  who  hated  Martha  Cod- 
dington  with  a  perfect  hatred,  and  who  had  always  assisted  in 
fomenting  the  enmity  which  had  arisen  between  the  two  families. 

Julia's  state  of  mind  rendered  her  incapable  of  any  disguise. 
Her  passionate  worship  of  the  young  clergyman  had  been  a  thing 
only  suspected  ;  but  she  now  threw  herself  upon  Sophia  Blan. 
chard's  neck,  and  bewailed  herself  in  the  wildest  terms,  wishing  for 
death  to  rid  her  of  her  misery,  and  declaring  that  she  would  not 
support  an  existence  which  had  become  odious  to  her.  In  the 
course  of  these  frantic  declarations,  the  whole  history  of  her  feel 
ings  came  out,  and  Sophia,  far  from  reasoning  with  her  on  the 
destructive  effects  of  such  self-abandonment,  artfully  condoled 
with  her  on  being  obliged  to  remain  with  the  Coddingtons,  and 
urged  her  to  break  with  them  at  once,  and  remove  with  her  grand 
father  to  a  home  where  she  would  find  welcome  and  happiness. 

But  courage  for  this  step  was  more  than  Julia  could  assume. 
She  had  suffered  herself  to  receive  unfavourable  impressions  of  her 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.         229 

absent  protectors,  but  her  habitual  reverence  for  them  was  such 
that  she  dared  not  think  of  braving  their  ill  opinion.  And  be 
sides,  she  well  knew  that  the  old  man,  childish  as  he  was  in 
many  respects,  could  never  be  persuaded  to  the  change.  So  she 
shook  her  head  despairingly,  and  repeated  her  conviction  that 
death  alone  could  relieve  wretchedness  like  hers. 

Sophia  Blanchard,  bold  and  designing  as  she  was,  trembled  at 
these  words.  She  knew  Julia  well  enough  to  believe  that  such 
feelings,  acting  upon  such  a  spirit,  might  not  improbably  result  in 
some  rash  act.  Finding  Julia  resolute  in  her  rejection  of  the  ex 
pedient  proposed,  she  set  herself  about  contriving  some  other 
which  should  serve  the  double  purpose  of  securing  Julia  and  an 
noying  the  Coddingtons. 

Are  there  moments  when  all  guardian  angels  leave  us  at  the 
mercy  of  the  evil  influences  within  ?  If  it  be  so,  such  times  are 
surely  those  when  we  have  wilfully  given  the  rein  to  passion,  and 
avowed  ourselves  its  slaves,  to  the  scorn  of  that  better  principle 
which  watches  for  us  as  long  as  we  allow  its  benign  sway.  "  Why 
hath  Satan  entered  into  thine  heart  ?"  Alas !  do  we  not  invite 
him  ?  Poor  Julia  !  his  emissary  is  even  now  at  thine  ear  ! 

Things  too  wild  for  fiction  must  yet  find  place  in  a  real  record 
of  human  actions.  The  plan  which  presented  itself  to  the  thoughts 
of  Sophia  Blanchard,  was  probably  suggested  by  the  bitter  ex 
pressions  she  had  heard  under  the  parental  roof;  yet  it  was  too 
outrageous  to  have  been  broached  seriously  by  a  person  more  ad 
vanced  in  age  or  better  acquainted  with  the  ordinary  course  of 
affairs.  To  set  fire  to  Mr.  Coddington's  house  after  the  family 
were  asleep  ; — then  to  give  the  alarm,  and  remove  the  old  man 
and  such  articles  as  could  be  saved — this  was  the  diabolical  ad 
vice  which  this  ill-taught  girl  gave  boldly  to  the  wretched  Julia, 
carefully  keeping  out  of  view  the  promptings  of  her  own  heredi 
tary  spite,  and  making  it  appear  that  the  loss  would  be  a  matter 
of  no  vital  importance  to  a  man  of  Mr.  Coddington's  property, 
while  it  would  set  Julia  free  to  remove  at  once  to  Mr.  Blan- 
chard's,  where  Mr.  Milgrove  had  decided  to  remain  for  some 
time. 


WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Blessings  beforehand — ties  of  gratefulness — 
The  sound  of  glory  ringing  in  our  ears — 
Without,  our  shame  ;  within  our  consciences — 
Angels  and  grace — eternal  hopes  and  fears. 
Yet  all  these  fences  and  their  whole  array 
One  cunning  BOSOM-SIN  blows  quite  away. 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 

INSTEAD  of  rejecting  this  atrocious  proposal  with  horror,  as  the 
Julia  of  purer  days  would  have  done,  the  unhappy  girl  listened  in 
silence  to  all  Sophia's  baleful  whispers,  and  with  this  tacit  per 
mission  the  whole  plan  was  gradually  developed  ;  Sophia's  ready 
ingenuity  devising  expedients  to  obviate  each  objection  as  it  pre 
sented  itself,  till  all  was  made  to  appear  easy  of  accomplish 
ment,  and  secure  from  detection.  Still  Julia  did  not  speak.  She 
sat  with  glazed  eyes  fixed  upon  her  tempter,  and  not  a  muscle 
moved,  whether  in  approval  or  rejection  of  the  plan.  Frightened 
by  her  ghastly  face,  Sophia  Blanchard  took  her  hand  :  it  was  cold 
and  clammy  as  that  of  a  corpse.  Thinking  Julia  about  to  faint, 
she  ran  for  water,  and  was  about  to  use  it  as  a  restorative, 
when  her  victim,  rousing  herself,  put  it  back  with  a  motion  of  her 
hand. 

"  Enough,  Sophia,"  she  said  ;  "  no  more  of  this  now  ;  leave  me 
to  myself!  Go — go— no  more  !"  and  no  entreaties  could  induce 
her  to  say  one  word  as  to  her  acceptance  of  the  proposition  upon 
which  her  adviser  had  ventured.  Sophia  Blanchard  was  obliged 
to  return  home  in  no  very  easy  state  of  mind,  and  all  her  efforts 
to  obtain  admittance  again  proved  fruitless.  Julia  resolutely  re 
fused  to  see  any  one  of  the  family. 

Three  days  passed  in  this  sort  of  suspense — an  ominous  pause, 
and  one  which  gave  Sophia  ample  time  to  reflect  on  the  step  she 
had  taken,  and  to  consider  its  consequences.  The  old  man  went 
not  forth  to  his  place  in  the  orchard.  He  sat  whimpering  in  the 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.        231 

corner,  scolding  at  Julia's  laziness,  and  wishing  that  Robert  Cod- 
dington  would  come  back,  that  he  might  have  somebody  to  take 
care  of  him.  Julia,  stern  and  silent,  moved  about  the  house  with 
more  than  her  usual  activity,  regulating  matters  which  had  of 
late  been  less  carefully  attended  to  than  usual,  and  insisting  upon 
extra  efforts  on  the  part  of  the  domestics,  in  order  that  every  thing 
might  be  in  order  for  the  reception  of  the  family.  On  the  even 
ing  of  the  third  day  all  was  pronounced  ready,  and  the  morrow 
was  talked  of  as  the  time  for  the  probable  arrival. 

At  midnight  a  loud  knocking  and  shouting  at  Mr.  Blanchard's 
doors  announced  that  a  fire  had  broken  out ;  and  at  the  same  mo 
ment  a  broad  sheet  of  flame  burst  from  the  further  end  of  Mr, 
Coddington's  house.  The  neighbourhood  was  soon  aroused,  and 
all  the  efforts  that  country  resources  allow,  were  used  to  save  the 
main  body  of  the  building.  Meanwhile,  old  Brand  was  carried, 
in  spite  of  his  angry  struggles  and  repeated  declarations  that  he 
would  not  go,  to  Mr.  Blanchard's,  and  laid  on  a  bed  in  one  of  the 
lower  rooms,  Julia  herself  superintending  the  removal  with  solici 
tous  care.  This  done,  she  took  the  lead  in  bringing  out  from  the 
blazing  pile,  everything  of  value  ;  herself  secured  Mr.  Codding 
ton's  papers,  and  suggested,  from  her  knowledge  of  the  affairs  of 
the  family,  what  might  best  engage  the  attention  of  the  assistants. 
Most  of  the  effects  were  thus  placed  in  safety  ;  but  with  scanty 
supplies  of  water,  and  nothing  more  effectual  than  buckets,  the 
attempt  to  preserve  any  part  of  the  house  was  soon  discovered  to 
be  hopeless.  The  neighbours,  having  done  their  best,  were 
obliged  to  withdraw  to  some  distance,  where  they  could  only 
stand  and  gaze  upon  the  flames,  and  listen  to  their  appalling 
roar. 

It  was  during  this  pause  that  the  general  attention  was  called 
by  the  most  agonizing  shrieks,  and  Julia,  who  had  been  all  com 
posure  during  the  agitation  of  the  night,  was  seen  coming  from 
Mr.  Blanchard's  in  a  state  of  absolute  distraction.  She  had  has 
tened  from  the  fire  to  look  after  her  helpless  charge,  but  on  reach 
ing  the  bed  on  which  he  had  been  placed,  she  found  it  empty  and 
cold.  A  blanket  that  had  been  wrapped  round  him  lay  in  the 
path  through  the  orchard,  and  the  conviction  had  struck  Julia  at 
once,  as  it  did  the  minds  of  all  present,  that  the  old  man,  feeble 


WESTERN    CLEARINGS. 


as  he  was,  had,  with  the  obstinacy  of  dotage,  taken  the  opportu 
nity  when  all  were  engrossed  with  the  fire,  to  return  to  his  own 
chamber,  now  surrounded  by  flames.  Julia  darted  towards  the 
door  of  the  burning  dwelling,  but  she  was  forcibly  withheld  by 
the  men  present,  who  declared  the  attempt  certain  destruction. 
While  she  still  struggled  and  shrieked  in  their  arms,  the  whole 
roof  fell  in,  and  a  fresh  volume  of  flame  went  roaring  and  crack, 
ling  up  to  the  very  stars.  The  old  man  was  gone  ! — gone  to  his 
account,  of  which  the  midnight  burning  of  the  helpless  formed  so 
dread  an  item.  And  Julia — it  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that 
she  envied  him  his  fate.  We  dare  not  attempt  a  picture  of  her 
condition. 

The  grey  light  of  dawn  began  to  chill  the  glare  of  the  dying 
flames.  The  contrast  produced  a  ghastly  tint  on  all  around,  till 
the  countenances  of  those  who  continued  to  watch  the  smouldering 
fire  looked  as  if  death,  instead  of  only  fatigue  and  exhaustion, 
was  doing  its  work  upon  them.  Julia,  having  resisted  all  en- 
treaties  of  the  Blanchards  to  go  with  them  to  their  house,  stood 
with  fixed  gaze,  and  rigid  as  a  statue,  contemplating  the  ruin 
before  her ;  when  the  sound  of  approaching  wheels  was  heard  ; 
and  the  dreary  light  disclosed  the  return  of  the  unfortunate  fami 
ly,  not  with  one  carriage  only,  as  they  left  home,  but  with  two ; 
and  travelling  at  so  slow  a  pace  that  it  seemed  as  if  they  brought 
calamity  with  them  in  addition  to  that  which  awaited  them  at 
their  desolate  home. 

"  They  are  coming !"  The  whisper  went  round,  and  then  an 
awe-struck  silence  pervaded  the  assembly.  Julia's  perceptions 
seemed  almost  gone,  although  she  was  denied  the  refuge  of  tem 
porary  insensibility.  She  had  already  suffered  all  that  nature 
could  bear,  and  a  stupid  calm  had  succeeded  her  agonizing  cries. 
Yet  she  drew  near  the  carriage  which  contained  her  friends,  and 
cast  her  eyes  eagerly  around. 

"  Where  is  Martha  ?"  she  said,  in  a  voice  so  altered,  so  hol 
low,  that  the  hearers  started. 

Mrs.  Coddington  burst  into  tears,  but  could  not  speak.  Her 
husband  answered  with  a  forced  calmness,  "  Julia,  my  love,  our 
dear  Martha  is  at  rest !  We  have  brought  home  only  her  cold 
remains." 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.        233 

Julia  uttered  not  a  sound,  but,  tossing  her  arms  wildly  in  the 
air,  fell  back,  utterly  lifeless,  and  in  this  state  was  carried  to  tbe 
house  of  one  of  the  neighbours. 

******* 

The  funeral  was  necessarily  hurried,  for  poor  Martha  had  died 
two  days  before  ;  so  that  the  ruins  of  the  home  of  her  childhood 
were  still  smoking  when  the  sad  procession  passed  them  on  its 
way  to  the  grave.  Julia,  recovered  from  that  kind  swoon,  had 
made  a  strong  effort  to  master  her  feelings,  and  to  take  some  part 
in  the  last  duties,  but  so  violent  had  been  the  action  of  the  over 
tasked  nerves,  that  she  was  feeble  and  faint,  and  utterly  incapa 
ble  of  the  least  exertion.  No  vestige  of  the  old  man's  body  could 
be  found  among  the  ruins,  so  that  she  was  spared  the  vain  an 
guish  of  so  horrible  a  sight ;  yet  the  reality  could  have  been 
scarcely  more  dreadful  than  the  pictu rings  of  her  own  guilt- 
quickened  fancy.  She  shrunk  from  joining,  according  to  the 
custom  of  the  country,  in  the  funeral  solemnities  of  her  friend, 
and  passed  the  dread  interval  alone  in  her  chamber. 

When  the  bereaved  parents  returned  to  the  house,  Mrs.  Cod- 
dington  went  immediately  to  Julia. 

"  My  daughter  !"  she  said,  "  my  dear — my  only  daughter  ! 
what  should  I  be  now  without  you  !  You  must  take  the  place  of 
the  blessed  creature  who  is  gone  !"  And  she  threw  herself  sob 
bing  upon  Julia's  bosom,  clasping  her  in  her  arms,  and  bestowing 
upon  her  all  the  fulness  of  a  mother's  heart. 

Like  a  blighted  thing  did  the  wretched  girl  shrink  from  her 
embrace,  and  sinking  prostrate  on  the  floor  at  her  feet,  pour  out 
at  once  the  whole  shameful  story  of  her  guilt.  Not  a  shade  was 
omitted,  not  even  the  unsought  and  frantic  love  which  was  now 
loathsome  in  her  own  eyes,  nor  the  suspicions  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Coddirigton  which  had  been  instilled  into  her  heart  until  its  very 
springs  were  poisoned. 

Mrs.  Coddington  shook  like  an  aspen  leaf.  She  tried  to  speak 
— to  ask — to  exclaim — but  words  came  not  from  her  paralyzed 
lips.  At  length — "  Julia  !"  she  faltered  out, — "  Julia — are  you 
mad  ?  You  cannot  surely  mean,  my  child — you  cannot  mean  all 
this  !  You  cannot  intend  me  to  believe  that  you  are  the — " 

She  stopped,  for  Julia,  still  prostrate,  groaned  and  shuddered, 


234  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

deprecating  by  a  motion  of  her  hand,  any  recapitulation  of  the 
horrors  she  had  disclosed. 

"  It  is  true,"  she  said  ;  "  I  am  all  that  I  have  told  you  ;  I  have 
burned  your  dwelling,  so  long  my  happy  home ;  I  have  commit- 
ted  murder, — all  I  ask  now  is  punishment.  I  have  thought  of 
all  ;  I  am  ready  for  what  is  to  follow  ;  I  wish  for  the  worst ; 
make  haste,  for  I  must  die  soon, — very  soon  !" 

She  concluded  so  wildly,  and  with  such  an  outburst  of  agony 
that  Mrs.  Coddington  again  thought  her  mind  had  become  unset 
tled  by  the  dreadful  occurrences  of  the  last  few  hours. 

But  these  tears  somewhat  relieved  her,  and  she  was  compara 
tively  calm  after  the  paroxysm  had  subsided.  And  now,  in  a 
collected  manner,  and  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Coddington,  did  she 
firmly  repeat  all  that  she  had  said,  gathering  courage  as  she  pro 
ceeded,  and  anxiously  entreating  to  have  her  statement  taken 
down  in  legal  form. 

Mr.  Coddington,  once  convinced  that  there  was  a  dreadful  re 
ality  in  all  this,  felt  it  as  any  other  man  would  ;  but  he  treated 
it  with  a  calmness  and  forbearance  which  not  every  man  could 
have  commanded.  He  heard  Julia's  statement  through,  asked 
some  questions  as  to  certain  particulars,  and  then,  taking  her 
hand  with  his  old  air  of  fatherly  kindness,  he  said,  "  My  poor 
child  !  you  have  been  dreadfully  deluded  !  Those  who  have  led 
you  astray  have  much  to  answer  for,  and  I  shall  take  care  that 
they  do  not  escape  the  reckoning.  You  I  can  forgive.  The 
mental  sufferings  you  must  endure  are  atonement  enough  ;  but 
for  those  who  wilfully  poisoned  your  young  mind — " 

"  Oh  no — no !"  exclaimed  Julia  ;  "  no  one  is  to  blame  but  my 
self.  I  alone  am  answerable  for  my  crime  !  I  did  all  with  my 
own  free  will — out  of  my  own  wicked  heart !  And  oh !  how  I 
wish  this  wretched  heart  were  cold  and  still,  even  now  !  How  I 
envy  dear  Martha  her  peaceful  grave  !  Make  haste  and  take 
down  what  I  have  said,  for  I  cannot  live  !" 

"Julia!"  said  Mr.  Coddington,  interrupting  her,  with  an  air  of 
severity  very  different  from  his  former  manner,  "  do  you  wish  me 
to  believe  that  all  your  expressions  of  remorse  and  self-abasement 
are  false  and  hollow  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  That  you  would 
raise  your  hand  against  your  own  life  ?  Rash  girl  !  your  thoughts 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM  CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.        235 

are  impious.  Suicide  is  not  the  resource  of  the  true  penitent, 
but  of  the  proud  and  self- worshipping  hypocrite.  If  you  are  sin 
cere  in  your  desire  to  atone  for  the  injury  you  have  done  me, 
show  it  by  entire  submission  to  what  I  shall  see  fit  to  direct. 
You  know  me  ;  you  know  you  have  no  reason  to  dread  harsh 
ness  at  my  hand.  Be  quiet  then ;  command  yourself,  and  to 
morrow  I  will  talk  with  you  again." 

So  saying  he  left  the  room,  seeing  Julia  too  much  exhausted 
for  further  conference,  but  Mrs.  Coddington  remained  long  with 
her,  soothing  her  perturbed  spirit  by  every  thing  that  a  mother's 
love  could  have  suggested,  and  assuring  her  of  Mr.  Coddington's 
kindness  and  of  his  forgiveness.  "  You  have  already  suffered 
enough,  my  poor  child,"  said  this  kind-hearted  woman  ;  "now  go 
to  rest,  pray  for  pardon  and  for  peace,  and  fit  yourself  by  a  quiet 
night  for  the  duties  of  to-morrow." 

And  such  friends  Julia  had  been  persuaded  to  believe  harsh 
and  unsyrnpathizing  ! 

We  shall  not  venture  to  give  a  fictitious  conclusion  to  this  story 
of  real  life.  It  might  not  be  difficult  to  award  poetical  justice  ; 
but  neither  that  nor  any  other  was  the  result  of  Mr.  Coddington's 
efforts.  He  adhered  firmly  to  his  resolution  of  holding  Julia's 
advisers  answerable  for  what  she  had  done.  She  was  not  yet 
sixteen,  and  her  account  of  all  that  had  passed  during  the  ab 
sence  of  her  friends  plairMy  showed  a  conspiracy  on  the  part  of 
the  Blanchard  family  to  do  him  a  deep  injury.  Slanderous  fab 
rications  of  the  vilest  character  had  been  employed  to  prejudice 
Julia  against  her  benefactors.  She  had  been  urged  to  treacherous 
and  injurious  conduct;  persuaded  that  Mr.  Coddington  was  plan 
ning  to  possess  himself  of  her  property,  on  her  grandfather's 
death ;  and  frequently  reminded  that  whatever  injury  should  be 
done  to  the  Coddingtons,  would  be  considered  as  no  worse  than 
they  merited  ;  in  attestation  of  which  the  sentiment  of  the  neigh 
bourhood  on  the  occasion  of  the  burning  of  the  barn,  was  fre 
quently  cited.  On  the  whole,  Mr.  Coddington,  who  was  a  man 
of  strong  and  decided  character,  was  fully  of  opinion  that  he  had 
just  cause  of  complaint  against  Blanchard,  as  answerable  not 
only  for  his  own  share  of  these  misdemeanours,  but  for  those 
which  his  family,  by  his  instigation,  had  carried  more  fully  into 


236  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

practice.  He  refused,  therefore,  to  listen  to  Julia's  entreaties, 
that  she  alone  might  bear  the  burthen  of  her  crime,  and  proceed, 
ed  to  seek  redress  from  his  malicious  neighbour. 

His  first  care  was  to  obtain  an  interview  with  Mr.  Blanchard, 
and  endeavour  to  induce  him  to  make  reparation  and  acknowledg 
ment,  from  a  sense  of  justice.  But  this  course,  however  accor 
dant  with  the  sound  principles  of  the  injured  party,  was  wholly 
lost  upon  the  virulent  enmity  of  his  opponent.  Blanchard,  who 
did  not  believe  in  Julia's  deep  repentance,  treated  his  neighbour's 
remonstrances  with  scorn  and  derision.  He  heaped  abuse  and 
insult  upon  Mr.  Coddington,  telling  him  that  it  was  well  known 
that  his  premises  had  been  insured  beyond  their  value,  and  more 
than  suspected  that  the  fire  had  been  a  matter  of  his  own  plan 
ning,  in  order  that  the  insurance  money  might  help  to  build  a 
more  modern  house.  He  said,  as  to  Julia,  that  the  young  men 
of  the  neighbourhood  had  resolved  to  release  her  by  force,  in  case 
she  was  not  given  up  peaceably,  since  she  was  believed  to  be  de 
tained  against  her  will.  In  short,  this  bold,  bad  man,  strong  in 
the  knowledge  that  the  prejudices  of  the  country,  (so  easily 
awakened  on  the  subject  of  caste,)  had  been  thoroughly  turned 
against  the  Coddington  family,  defied  him  with  contempt,  and  left 
nothing  unsaid  that  could  exasperate  his  temper. 

Mr.  Coddington  now  resolved  to  appeal  to  the  laws,  his  last  re 
sort  against  this  determined  enmity.  That  Blanchard  was  mor 
ally  accountable  he  felt  no  doubt ;  to  render  him  legally  so,  he 
thought  required  only  that  the  fact  should  be  plainly  set  forth  to 
a  jury.  The  ends  of  justice  seemed  to  sanction  if  they  did  not 
require  such  a  course  ;  since  it  is  always  desirable  to  ascertain 
what  protection  the  laws  do  really  afford  to  those  who  give  them 
their  support.  He  probably  thought  this  necessary  also  on  Julia's 
account ;  for  her  dread  secret  was  in  possession  of  the  declared 
enemies  of  the  family  ;  and  a  judicial  investigation,  by  showing  the 
influence  under  which  she  had  acted,  would  place  the  matter  in 
its  true  light,  and  set  forth  the  palliation  with  the  crime.  So  the 
matter  was  laid  before  the  grand  jury. 

It  might,  perhaps,  be  inquiring  too  curiously,  to  ask  whether, 
in  coming  to  this  conclusion,  Mr.  Coddington  did  not  consult  his 
passions  rather  than  his  judgment.  It  is  difficult  to  know  exactly 


BITTER  FRUITS  FROM   CHANCE-SOWN  SEEDS.        237 

how  much  love  we  bear  to  abstract  justice.  That  another  course 
would  better  have  promoted  both  his  happiness  and  his  pecuniary 
interests,  is  highly  probable  ;  since  it  is  at  least  as  true  in  a  new 
country,  as  elsewhere,  that  the  law  is  a  great  gulf  which  is  apt 
to  swallow  up  both  parties.  Yet  the  desire  to  appeal  to  public 
justice  was  at  all  events  a  natural,  if  not  a  prudent  one. 

But  a  grand  jury,  though  sworn  to  "  diligently  inquire  and  a 
true  presentment  make"  of  such  matters  as  the  foregoing,  and 
that  "  without  fear,  favour,  or  affection,"  are  far  from  being  above 
prejudice,  and,  perhaps,  not  always  secure  from  influences  likely 
to  obstruct  the  even  flow  of  justice.  When  the  matter  is  not  a 
**  foregone  conclusion,"  a  judgment  prejudged, — it  too  often  hap- 
pens  that  the  story  first  told  has  the  advantage.  There  is  no 
room  for  more  than  one  set  of  ideas  on  the  same  theme.  The 
prominent  and  tangible  fact  in  this  case  was,  that  a  young  girl 
confessed  having  burned  a  house ;  this  might  bring  her  to  the 
penitentiary,  and  the  jury  would  not  find  a  "  true  bill."  In  vain 
did  the  deeply  penitent  Julia  make  her  statement  in  presence  of 
the  court.  She  was  represented  as  under  compulsion.  She  was 
taken  aside  again  and  again,  at  the  repeated  instigation  of 
Blanch ard,  as  if,  like  prince  Balak,  he  still  hoped  "  peradventure 
she  will  curse  me  them  from  thence;" — but  although  her  story 
was  unaltered,  it  remained  unheeded.  She  was  now  offered  half 
the  homes  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  repeatedly  reminded  that 
she  was  under  the  protection  of  the  court,  and  could  go  where 
she  liked ;  but  she  insisted  on  remaining  with  Mr.  Coddington, 
and  declared  that  she  desired  life  only  that  it  might  be  spent  in 
atoning  the  injury  she  had  done  him.  Foiled,  as  we  have  seen, 
in  his  attempt  to  make  the  shame  and  the  punishment  due  to  so 
great  an  offence  fall  on  those  whom  he  considered  most  guilty, 
Mr.  Coddington's  next  thought  was  to  vindicate  his  own  character 
from  the  boundless  calumnies  of  his  envious  neighbour.  But  a 
better  consideration  of  the  case  determined  him  to  let  his  reputa 
tion  clear  itself;  trusting  that  the  past  and  the  future  would  alike 
be  his  vouchers  to  all  those  whose  opinion  he  valued.  So  he  con 
tented  himself  with  having  placed  Julia  in  comparative  safety, 
and  resolved  to  live  down  the  calumnies  which  had  been  so  indus 
triously  propagated  against  him.  Instead  of  quitting  the  neigh- 


238  WESTERN   CLEARINGS. 

bourhood,  as  a  man  of  weaker  character  might  have  done,  he  has 
rebuilt  his  house,  and  adopted  Julia  as  his  daughter,  fully  con 
vinced  of  the  change  in  her  character,  as  well  as  of  the  violent 
mental  excitement  under  which  she  yielded  to  temptation  ;  and  if 
there  be  any  truth  in  the  doctrine  of  compensations,  it  cannot  be 
doubted  that  a  man  of  his  character  must,  in  time,  obtain  a  com- 
plete  though  silent  triumph  over  the  desperate  malignity  of  such 
people  as  the  Blanchards. 


THE  END. 


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